


Almost There

by Gemenied



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 35,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemenied/pseuds/Gemenied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few months after the events of "How Am I Supposed To Live" the mess from then is still there, especially when a case crops up that could very well turn into a national tragedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I really own nothing.
> 
> A/N: This was my very first WtD-story - and reading it now after almost 3 years ius a bit of an odd experience. I didn't rework it, so I hope you overlook the beginner's weaknesses the story has.  
> It is sort of a sequel to shadowsamurai's story "How Am I Supposed To Live" - which I was kindly allowed to continue. The story takes place about 7-8 months later.
> 
> Many, many thanks go out to the people who encouraged me then and still do so now.

 

**Chapter 1**

She stared at the file without really reading it. The words and figures swam into each other so that she could hardly make out what they said. If she were honest with herself, she should take a vacation, leave the office earlier. But what would she do then?

Go on a date she wasn't overly interested in and therefore hurting somebody who didn't deserve it? Or hide out at home, pretending to relax while she was basically moping?

Moving North and taking this job had sounded like a good idea at the time - the _only_ idea considering the state she had been in. But now, months later, she wasn't sure whether the idea had really been as good as she had thought at the time.

The two cases she was finishing hadn't been that taxing, surprisingly easy considering, and she knew it would raise her reputation even more, if that was possible.

From outside her office she could hear her assistant and her secretary tease each other, unwinding a little after the tense emotions of the last days.

It was always like that when they had acute cases that demanded her to travel abroad and interview people. Still, they had been lucky. The two boys had been caught before they could go through with their plans and now that they would receive the attention they had planned on attracting, and would hopefully recover.

"Tim?" Grace called outside for her assistant.

The young man stuck his head inside her office for a moment. "Yes, boss?"

"Don't call me boss, that's somebody else."

"You are my boss, boss," he shot back with a cocky grin, making her shake her head.

"Did Mr. Frydenlund specify what area they wanted to be mainly covered in my report? It looks superficial to me. Just the usual words."

Tim shrugged. "Entirely possible that they just want a general report to use in party politics. Maybe they have elections coming up and need some material to prove their point." That was one of the unpleasant aspects of their work and he knew it riled Grace up to be so vague, so she stepped on no political toe. It seemed so pointless to do all the work they did do and then pull back when it came to crunch time. "Won't help that boy, Raynor, or any other like him."

Frustration evident in her voice, Grace shook her head. Staring at the file a moment longer, she threw it down on her desk in annoyance. "We're not getting anywhere with this. At least not until I had some decent lunch and found out whether I can go to the Reds' match on Saturday." Looking up, she gave her assistant a small smile. "Ask Marcia if she's game for lunch too."

"Shall I ask her to football as well?"

"I'm not taking her or you, young man. I'm going all by myself!"

Turning around and passing the lunch announcement on, Tim inwardly shook his head. That was exactly the problem with his boss, her preference for solitude. Always working, always alone. That couldn't be healthy.

He had gotten to know his boss a little over the last months and what he saw made him worry. She wasn't exactly unsociable. In fact, he knew that the day after the Reds won, she was usually in a good mood, but good mood for Grace Foley was still fairly cool compared to what generally fell into the category. Upon her arrival, he had been told that this was the specialist their group had been dreaming to hire for years. The Home Office had demanded a closer association with their group in payment for this specialist. Seeing her work, he knew why.

The woman was brilliant, the way she picked up clues and puzzled them together almost magically at times, and her skill in talking to the kids and getting them to open up was unequalled. Unsurprisingly, there was rumour going around the US Secret Service was going to offer a staggering sum of money to hire her.

Professionally, the woman was incredible. On a personal level, he had his doubts.

"Come on, Tim. We'll have finished our meal by the time you get your behind to the pub." That was Marcia egging him on. She usually had a better connection to their boss than he had, and he sometimes wondered why that was. Maybe it was the imposing figure of her 5'10 or her flaming red hair. Maybe it was the fact that...he didn't really know, just sometimes he got the feeling that Dr. Foley looked at him as if she saw somebody else, but he couldn't say for sure who it was.

"Tim??? Food!!!!" Marcia nagged, both women standing in the door, already in their coats.

Making a soothing gesture, he moved to join them, deeper thoughts about the woman that was his superior shoved aside. It would be a slow day for the rest of the afternoon, writing up reports and finding citations. The usual thing, nothing really earth-shaking.

And as always when he left the office, he gave a short prayer that no new case would crop up.

* * *

 

He hadn't really thought much about this job, just accepted it, surprised that they even considered taking him back on. They had even given him his old rank, though he wasn't leading a unit this time. That would have been too much to ask for, he knew. Hell, this seemed like more than he could have asked for.

Being back on British soil was to a point embarrassing, a little like having marched out with trumpets playing and coming back with your tail between your legs. If somebody came to mock him, he couldn't even blame them. It would probably not stop him from shouting at them, but what did that matter?

Peter Boyd was back in London, working and single. And hell-bent on putting a few things right. That was easier said than done, he knew, due to the fact that some people reacted coolly while others still played Houdini.

There had been a meeting for drinks a few weeks ago with Stella and Eve which had gone over surprisingly well. It surprised him, but they seemed to be genuinely pleased to see him. Spencer was another matter, but at least he now talked when they were in the same room.

It might have had something to do with CCU being reformed shortly after he left for America, the Commissioner stating that with their two main faces out, they could hardly continue the game. Instead, they had turned it into some sort of a special unit, basically being on call constantly. No regular cases, but jumping in when nobody else wanted it. While solving those cases, the commendations were frequent, making Spencer just a few cases shy of another promotion, but on a policing level, it was a frustrating situation. Still, so short before a promotion Spence couldn't exactly hold a grudge, could he?

All in all, and he'd desperately avoid to say it out loud, Boyd felt better now than he had felt in months. Being back was good. Doing real police work again was good. Having finished with his attempt at a relationship that he had known deep down would lead to nothing felt good. The only thing that didn't, and bothered the bollocks out of him in fact, was Grace. Grace and her disappearing act. Grace and her last words. Grace and the look on her face just before. Grace and her taking everything to the very end when she bloody shouldn't. Grace and...

Grace.

He'd even gone so far as to track down her children and ask about her whereabouts. Frosty didn't begin to describe that encounter. Naturally, it had led to nothing.

Suppressing a groan, he looked up from the file on his desk. Reading it had been a pretence anyway.

A sudden commotion by the door caught his attention and his eyes narrowed. The AC who had entered motioned for Boyd and DCS Clayton to follow and as they went, Boyd couldn't suppress a twinge of nervousness.

* * *

 

Sitting in his chair, Spencer Jordan tried to absorb the information they'd just been given. He wanted to think it through before the next briefing. This case was already giving him a headache.

Normally, he would have jumped up and down in joy. A case like this could shorten his way to promotion considerably and do something really good for the safety of the city. However, it left him uneasy to think just how much emotion, how much danger, and unfortunately how much politics would be involved. Worse, though, if they failed, then Britain would have its heartache right in the middle of the capital.

* * *

 

As expected the afternoon drudged on considerably as Grace tried to put something actually useful into her report on the Norwegian case. If it hadn't been for a pleasant lunch with easy conversation and the chance to brag about her favourite football team, things would be much more difficult.

Tim could be a really charming man when he wanted to be and his attempt to catch the ladies' attention by being a clown was indeed amusing. Not because he was overly funny. More because he failed so spectacularly at it.

Now, though, she had been called into the director's office, which felt a bit like being back in school and going to receive detention, and it made her uneasy. It wasn't that she disliked the director, quite the contrary. He was a good looking and charming man.

"Grace, good to see. I'm glad you came so quickly. You didn't cut your lunch break short for this, did you?"

She tried to give him her brightest smile, covering up her unease. Jeremy Bartlett was a charismatic director, easily capable of acquiring funds and reputation for his group, but at times he could be what Boyd would have called a slimy, arsey tosser. Sometimes, she couldn't help but agree.

She didn't mind that he flirted with her, considered it as part of his working style and personality. He did have another woman on his arm every week and they all had something in common: brunette, thin, busty and barely 30. Therefore, she didn't take his flirting seriously. Besides, she was the star of his team - expensively acquired - and he had left no doubt that he intended to keep his 'star' happy.

Though it galled her, his usual calls on her included the reception of a somewhat condescending pat on the head for being such a good girl, or to be insistently reminded just how much her work affected political interests. She despised both, making this a definite downside to her job.

"It's alright, Mr. Bartlett. We were finished anyway. What is the matter?"

"Grace, Grace, I told you so often to call me Jeremy. Mr. Bartlett seems so formal and we are such a close-knit group here." He gave her his most winning and charming smile, ignoring her obvious reluctance to reciprocate. The woman was really a piece of work. Fascinating though.

She nodded only briefly, trying to appear more open. "I don't think, Jeremy," she put extra-emphasis on the name and sweetened it with an even brighter smile, "that you've called me in to discuss team-dynamics. If you call me in personally, then there is an important development. Am I right?"

"Impressive, Grace." He smiled again. "I'm constantly amazed by your abilities as are all of our 'customers,' if you will. Everybody sings your praise and I can only agree. But...." He paused for dramatic effect. "You are correct. There is a new case that we've been informed of and I'm afraid it is even more sensitive than most cases we deal with."

Her interest piqued, Grace leaned forward. "I see. Can you give me details?"

Bartlett opened the file in front of him, pretending to go over the information. It was a bit of a show since the facts had already been imprinted in his brain. This case could make or break his organisation. Knighthood or public laughing stock.

"London Metropolitan Police has come across strong hints that a mass shooting is planned on one of London's more prestigious public schools. Chat protocols suggest that somebody plans to enter St. Anthony's Academy in Kensington and use firearms to kill as many pupils and staff as he can hit."

While her face showed only mild shock, it was like a stone was weighing down on her. "I see," she managed after a moment. "Do they have a time frame?"

Bartlett sighed and looked at the file again. "The readings suggest a timeframe of the next two weeks but they assume it is actually going to happen within the next seven to eight days."

Grace nodded numbly. This was her area of expertise, since she had come to work with the organization some eight months ago. She should be prepared and professionally she was. But London...

Cases abroad were one thing. It was easy to keep professional distance there. It wasn't close to home, really, and rationalizing a case was much easier. But this...

And London...so much of her own history...and so many things she didn't want to face yet. So many people, she wasn't sure she'd be able to see again.

"Grace." Bartlett's tone of voice had taken on a somewhat desperate note and she looked up into his eyes. "London Metropolitan Police requested our assistance and the Commissioner, as well as Home Office, made it clear that they want you specifically. You're required to show up in London tomorrow, Grace. And you know as well as I do that failure is not an option."


	2. Chapter 2

Grace walked into the building with trepidation, not completely certain were it came from. A mixture of factors, she assumed. One was this case she was supposed to take on, another was being back in London for the first time in months and the third, well, the third was being back in London for the first time in months as well. It was this building too. For several years she had spent more time here than in her house and had felt comfortable here. This was now a thing of the past, something she didn't want to stir up again. Her only hope could be that she wouldn't run into a familiar face.

Another factor in her unease was the man only half a step behind her, who treated her as solicitously as he could. She hadn't planned on this development, would have been more comfortable with going alone and staying on her own. With all her ghosts, she didn't need somebody to look over her shoulder all the time.

But as she had been packing last night, debating whether to reserve a seat on the train or not, Jeremy Bartlett had called to tell her that his private jet was at her service and a hotel room booked for her. Now, Grace didn't mind a bit of luxury every now and then, but she hadn't doubted that the offer was linked to Bartlett's personal presence. She had been right.

Barely inside the building, she didn't have much enthusiasm to analyse this situation. Thinking back to their 'discussion' on the trip, she wasn't sure whether his presence was a polite, a romantic, or much more of a controlling gesture.

_"As much as I feel honoured to be requested to work this case, I'm not entirely certain why."_

_"They explicitly asked for you, Grace, because you are the best."_

_"I am aware of my professional merits, Jeremy, but I've worked with the Met long enough to know that they have quite a few capable psychologists at their disposal. If those did not meet with their approval, the Commissioner could request personnel from the Home Office or, if necessary, the MI5. It's not like they don't have any other option. So, why me?"_

_"They asked for you. They hired this agency, and you specifically. They pay a lot of money for your services. The why is of absolutely no concern to you or to me. In fact, it doesn't matter."_

_"Jeremy...."_

_"Stop it, Grace! It's not a request and it doesn't come with a refusal option!"_

It made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, but....

"Dr. Foley, how good to see you."

* * *

 

It was the second briefing in as many hours and Spencer wasn't entirely sure what this was supposed to bring in terms of new intel. The chat protocols of last night had already been distributed and they had already read through them. There hadn't been any additional information. Discussions with Stella and Eve provided no further results. They simply didn't know enough.

Stella was pacing the small briefing room feeling antsy. She disliked waiting, hated that they were constantly dangled on a line waiting for a job to come up. Yes, those cases were successful and furthered their career, but the longer it took, the more it seemed as if their unit, or what was left of it, got called on to do the dirty jobs nobody wanted to do. It was a frustrating situation and Stella didn't deal overly well with it.

She saw Boyd walking in and gave him a smile across the room as he acknowledged her with a nod. There was a warmth in his expression that was new but not unwelcome. Being too brash herself and then having to apologize for it, she appreciated the effort he was trying to make.

"Stop scowling at him, Spence," Eve chided gently. "You are glad that he's back and in time, you'll even admit it."

Spencer only rolled his eyes.

"You are worse than him sometimes!"

He was about to protest vehemently, but the arrival of a DAC, along with a two other officers, stopped him. He didn't know either officer, neither the woman nor the blond man. He could, however, feel the man's cocky swagger begin to rile him up. Boyd, sitting on the other side of the table, bristled as well.

The small room was now almost filled to capacity. Additional chairs, which wouldn't even fit completely, had been squashed around the table, adding to the tense feeling inside the room. The DAC provided the pleasantries for the attending people, introducing the woman as a Kazuko Leigh and the man as a Colin Martin. An IT-specialist and a firearms-expert.

The former team mates shared a glance over the additions as the DAC continued to prattle on. What had been meant to be a few introductory words turned into a longer speech, in which he recounted what was known so far.

In his seat, Boyd fidgeted, waiting for the speech to end. He wanted to get on with it, get real information, not warm words. He felt his temper rise as the DAC droned on. In a case like this, time was at a premium and here they were relegated to listen to longwinded speeches.

Crossing his arms and clenching his fists out of sight, he tried to keep his annoyance in check. It was barely successful, but he didn't really have somebody to yell at. Yet.

* * *

 

"Commissioner." Grace's smile was genuine as she shook hands with the man. In the past, their interactions had left a positive impression on her. Commissioner Hutchinson had lost most of his hair in years of service, so he generally knew what policing was about. "It's a pleasure as well. You do know Mr. Bartlett?" she continued by way of politeness.

Hutchinson nodded, smiling pleasantly enough, but as he spoke, Grace thought she could detect an edge in his voice. "Of course, the man who snatched our best profiler away. I haven't forgotten."

Bartlett smiled politely as well. Inwardly, Grace rolled her eyes at the little game of male power.

"I'm glad you are here now. We are waiting for you." Hutchinson turned back to the profiler, ignoring the other man from now on. "How do you assess the situation?"

"Well," she started, a little wary of wording her thoughts, "school shootings are never cut and dry cases, so I'll need more information to make a proper assessment. Usually, the shooter...."

"Oh, let's not do it out here. Well go inside the briefing room and you can share your thoughts with everybody."

"What do you mean?" She didn't like where this was going, Hutchinson taking her coat and bag from her, while taking her arm to lead her towards a meeting room.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bartlett, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait here while Dr. Foley speaks at the meeting."

Before her boss had any chance to reply, the Commissioner had ushered Grace inside the room and closed the door behind them.

It all happened so quickly that Grace didn't even have the chance to say a word of apology. She found the whole procedure odd, Hutchinson had never been one to rush things like that. It was almost like she was being kidnapped by the police inside their headquarters. The unease which had spread in her mind increased tenfold when she heard a voice behind her saying: "Commissioner, sir, all personnel you required is here. We can start the meeting immediately."

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end before she even turned and it had nothing to do with being shoved into a room to speak about a case she had barely any information about.

Consequentially, as she finally turned to face the assembled people, the first - and only - person she really saw was him. "Bloody hell!"

* * *

 

From their seats at the table, Eve, Stella and Spencer instantly recognised the person entering the room without having even seen her face. The silhouette and posture was so familiar that none of them had any doubt. Smiles broke out on their faces, but instantly disappeared when they saw her stiffening.

It was obvious to those in the know - and they were that - that Grace was only too aware of who was in the room. It didn't need her 'bloody hell' as she turned to understand that she 'felt,' for the lack of a better word, Boyd's presence before she saw him.

From afar, it was like watching a film unfolding, the way their eyes connected, and they stared at each other as if trying to light a fire between them. The ensuing silence, however, was tense and the three at the other end of the table felt it keenly.

Fortunately, the DAC was completely unaware, falling over himself to please the Commissioner and the newly arrived specialist.

By the time the introductions were over, Grace seemed to be in control of herself again, though clearly displeased with the procedures, and for a moment, Eve anticipated the tongue lashing that would follow this briefing.

The meeting could only be counted as awkward, since most people in the room knew that Grace was operating off the cuff. Without detailed information about this particular case, she could not point any more than what was general experience. Eve and Stella shared more than one worried glance throughout, and Stella's hands were clenched into fists, willing their former profiler to get through the speech without admitting that she was out of her depth at this point.

When her presentation was over, Grace felt utterly drained. She still could not comprehend what this was all about. Why had they called in the members of CCU? Why Boyd, of all people? And why her? She sat back in her chair, trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach, but had little success. Instead she felt like fainting or vomiting - whichever came first.

It was agreed on to keep a close eye on the chat protocols as well as trying to trace the chatter by cracking his IP-address. Grace would try to produce a profile, while the rest would gather information about the situation at St. Anthony's Academy.

Eve kept a close eye on Grace, worried by her paleness and the fact that she was shaking. It wasn't a good sign. At Spencer's question about which unit they would work with, everybody's attention was drawn towards the Commissioner.

Hutchinson cleared his throat, fully aware that he was dropping a bomb here. "This is it, DI Jordan," he announced. "I am putting the former CCU to task again for this case, and DS Leigh and DC Martin are going join you, because they are specialists in their fields.

"CCU has been disbanded, Commissioner," Spencer replied with a barely concealed sneer.

Hutchinson's mouth twitched slightly as her regarded the people in the room, before he fixed his gaze on Spencer again. "It is at work again. But this time, your team will be headed by Dr. Foley."

Before anybody could say anything, he had risen, declared the meeting finished, and made for the door. He had almost reached it when he stopped and turned towards the group. "I would get used to the facts and push my personal feelings aside, ladies and gentlemen. You have only seven days to solve the case. Dr. Foley...."

In the ensuing chaos, everybody talked at once except Grace who seemed to be too stunned to move at first, but then moved to take the Commissioner's arm and left the room with him.

As the door fell shut, the remaining occupants of the room stared at each other, not sure what to say. It was an awkward moment and they didn't want to start an argument now.

"I'd love to be a fly on the wall for the discussion Grace will now have with the Commissioner," Stella muttered finally, more to say something than really wanting to be heard.

"I don't think they'll discuss," Spence replied.

"She'll yell," Eve added, a slow grin forming on her face.

"And he'll try to talk her out of killing him," Boyd added, still more to himself, but with a small smile nonetheless.

They gave each other a long look, and suddenly a quiet chuckle replaced the awkwardness.

* * *

 

Outside, the DAC quietly declared, "Very good presentation, Dr. Foley. We now have a much better idea where to start."

Grace didn't really hear it, too busy swallowing the bomb Hutchinson had just dropped. As he turned towards her with a winning smile and gestured for her to precede him, she stood stock still, not willing to be pushed around any longer.

"Commissioner, a word, please! In private!"

Anger was beginning to boil up in her. Part of why she had been eager to leave the association with the Met was the way people were pushed around and exposed. Police officers were a hard-working lot, often placed between a rock and a hard place, accused of not doing their job right. Even though it had always been true for a few of them, it was an insult to most. Additionally, it had always annoyed her how higher-ranking officers put their subordinates on the line, blaming them for things that went wrong without providing them with the proper support.

What Hutchinson was trying to pull here was putting her out, embarrassing her, and expecting her to fix a situation she couldn't fix.

Her displeasure radiated off of her in waves, she could feel it, knew instantly that Hutchinson recognised the signs as he quickly ushered her towards his office, ordered a tea and safely closed the door behind them.

"Before you started shouting, Dr. Foley, please listen!"

* * *

 

She did listen, for all but a minute before she interrupted Hutchinson's speech with an impatient gesture.

"And now for the truth, Commissioner! I'm sure you won't insult my intelligence by feeding me this crap about me being the only qualified person for the job. We both know that the Met has enough qualified personnel to deal with school shootings and threats of all kind. It's what people in the service have done for years." Leaning over the desk where Hutchinson had sat down, she glared at him. "You don't need me specifically to do their jobs."

"You are selling yourself short, Doctor. You are the most experienced person, having analysed and dealt with school shootings in the past...."

"...Few months...," Grace interrupted, but the Commissioner wasn't disturbed.

"You are one of the best, if not _the_ best, profiler we can get our hands on. And that is the truth. It was a huge mistake of ours to accept your resignation." A short pause ensued. Under different circumstances, Grace would have considered the words flattery, but now she wasn't so sure. "But that's beside the point," Hutchinson quickly covered up. "We need you on this case."

"I'm telling you, I will not take part in this!" Sitting down, she leaned back and stared at the man defiantly. "It's a farce! You know it, I know it, and you know that I know it. CCU was disbanded months ago, a chance everybody in the Met was only waiting for! And now you throw all of us together again, on a case that has nothing to do with cold cases and can easily be worked on by especially trained units. You even put me in command of the team, instead of the DSI you had sitting in that room. A civilian in charge of police officers! Me commanding these people! It's bloody ridiculous...."

"Dr. Foley...."

"No!"

"Dr. Foley...."

"What?!"

"I think there is something you should consider before you flat out refuse...."


	3. Chapter 3

The meeting room they were in was still oppressively small, despite three people having left it. They were waiting for further orders, word on where they were supposed to work from.

While DS Leigh stepped closer, trying to start a conversation with her new colleagues, DC Martin appeared to be bored. Leaning back in his chair, he watched his surroundings, especially the silhouettes of the female occupants of the room. For a moment it looked as if he would have placed his feet on the conference table had it not been for the fact that almost everybody in the room was of a higher rank.

Boyd eyed him with barely concealed disdain.

"I'd consider all this a set up, if I wasn't so sure that the Met is not remotely interested in reactivating CCU."

That diverted Boyd's attention and he let out a mirthless laugh. "Certainly not with me in it."

Spencer looked at him and shrugged. "Not your fault really, they just waited for a chance to close us down." Leaning back in his chair, he fixed Boyd with a look. "DAC Carlton was very candid about our expendability when he reassigned us."

"Quite smug too," Stella added, but swallowed the curse at the end of the sentence.

Despite the casual tone, Boyd heard the accusation clearly. They didn't have to say it out loud, could even deny it, but he knew that he was to blame. If he hadn't left everything behind to follow Sarah, if Grace hadn't run away as a result...if...if....

It all came down to him leaving first and to Grace giving up on him.

If they hadn't left, CCU would still exist. He didn't know on which terms, didn't know how and where they'd be today, but it all seemed better than what was.

He assessed the people in the room: Leigh trying to be polite and create some sort of working atmosphere, Martin hanging around as if he owned the room. There'd be trouble with that one, he knew. It wouldn't take long either. Stella was agitated, pacing around, Spencer sat in the middle of the room, his posture one of disinterest and a lie. Eve, sat in a corner and leaning back against the wall, remained oddly enigmatic. She even had her eyes closed and seemed to be dozing, but it didn't fool Boyd. She was observing. Spencer, him, Martin - probably ready to jump in and separate them if necessary.

That would be a sight for Grace the moment she walked in. Nothing changed. Tension running high and the men of the unit unwilling to take a step back. He could almost picture her expression upon the sight.

Had that been it as well? From Stella and Eve, he knew that Grace had not contacted any of them, her disappearing act complete and perfected as it went. No word, no message, no 'I'm alright,' nothing.

And now she was here again and he was here again, and from the moment she had walked into the room, he knew that there was something, an elephant in the room, so to speak. Even with his eyes closed, he would have known that she walked into the room, a strange feeling spreading through his entire body.

It had never been like that, despite their friendship.

And just like he had recognised her instantly, the stiffening in her posture told him that she had known he was in the room as well.

It was all a little too touchy-feely for his taste, but it was there and when they'd looked at each other for the first time in months, outwardly no more than casual acquaintances, inwardly they were anything but.

The door opened, revealing once again the Commissioner, with Grace following closely behind. The look on her face spoke volumes, but she didn't interrupt when Hutchinson made his announcement. Her expression remained blank throughout his speech and as the Commissioner finished, expecting her to say a few words, she remained silent. The silence quickly became strained to the point of oppressiveness and it made almost every occupant of the room fidgety.

From her spot in the corner, Eve half expected Grace to suddenly jump up and tell the Commissioner to shove it, but nothing of the sort happened.

In front, Grace was mulling over the last hour. Hutchinson had made it clear that refusal was not an option on her part. The reasons he had given were valid enough, painful and unpleasant, but she could not deny any of them. In the long run, her distaste did not matter, nor did the circumstances. There was a case that needed to be dealt with and she was the one who'd have to do it.

Judging from this point, it also didn't matter that somebody up in Personnel apparently had a sick kind of humour to throw her together with Boyd. But then 'life is a bitch and then you die,' as her daughter had become so fond of saying.

"Commissioner."

Hutchinson turned, not sure whether to be incredibly relieved that Grace had finally spoken, or worried what she was about to say. His earlier words - some might say his earlier blackmail - had left her reeling, he knew, and he wasn't particularly proud to have had to resort to such measures, but he was under pressure as well, forced to provide results.

"Dr. Foley?"

"I'd appreciate if you left us so that my team and I can start doing actual work." She didn't look at him, her disdain visible in her posture and movements. From the looks of it, the Commissioner didn't rate higher than a fly on the wall, and she had no intention of showing even the smallest amount of respect for his office. "From my point of view, enough words have been made."

The younger officers in the room gulped at the gross insubordination and show of disrespect; Boyd, on the other hand, barely held a proud smirk in. Eve, giving up the pretence of dozing, leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the scene, the corners of her mouth twitching. Everybody else waited with baited breath for the outcome.

Surprisingly, Hutchinson only nodded and made for the door. "Please, keep me updated on your work, Dr. Foley. Ladies, gentlemen."

Then the door closed and the silence was back as the people in the room regarded each other carefully.

Grace took the time to look at the two new officers who were supposed to work with her, but studiously avoided her former team mates. It wasn't that she didn't want to greet them, or wasn't glad to seem them, but it was all a little overwhelming. Too much, from too many angles, in too short a time. Psychologist she might be, but at this point she didn't want to analyse, she wanted to feel pissed off.

"Contrary,...." She coughed slightly to clear her voice. "Contrary to the impression I might have just made on you, I do not bite," she said finally, giving a small wavering smile. "I don't beat up my subordinates either and I allow regular breaks for food and rest, as long as the work gets done."

There was a flicker in the corner of her mouth as somebody unsuccessfully suppressed a snort and Boyd fell into a chair with theatrical heaviness.

"Be that as it may, we have a difficult case on our hands where time is at a premium. We are also under quite a bit of pressure to be successful, so I guess we get on with it."

As everybody turned towards the whiteboard that was attached to the wall, it felt a little bit like giving a lecture - she the teacher in front and the pupils desperate not to be seen. Her former team was a bit more courageous, and obviously, Boyd showed no amount of hesitation, seating himself right in front of her - not exactly helping her nervousness.

It made her cringe inwardly to think how close they'd have to be through this case. Hutchinson had made Boyd her partner, stating that when they had worked together, she and Boyd had been unbeatable. Grace had barely managed to contain her derisive snort, just like she could barely conceal the shiver running through her as he entered her personal space.

"How do we start?"

It was Stella who'd asked, eager to get started, somewhat akin to excitement on her face.

Boyd tried to cover his grin, but as he did, he saw Grace actually smiling for the first time that day. Looking at Eve and Spence, they were sporting similar expressions, standing close together. It was almost like times past, happier times.

"With what we know, I assume."

Three women rolled their eyes at him, making it definitely feel like old times.

Stella grabbed a marker off the table and went to the board where she turned and looked at the people in the room. "Alright, what do we know for certain?"

"Four days ago, a board moderator reported a strange post by a user named 'fbuckity' to their superiors, who relayed that post to us," Spencer started.

"Originality wasn't in that guy's make up," Martin muttered, shaking his head." With that name he'll never get the birds." There was a rustle of clothes as all occupants of the room turned towards DC Martin. The glares that were directed at him made the man swallow, so he raised his hands un surrender. "Sorry."

"Your chagrin is appreciated, DC Martin," Grace jumped in before Boyd had a chance to get a sound out.

"Stupid name or not," Stella picked up the story from Spencer, "the post contained the announcement that a shooting would take place at St. Anthony's Academy in Kensington within two weeks time."

"The information was relayed to the internet crime squad, which put this user under surveillance," DS Leigh continued. "We managed to track him on several other message boards and in chats, which have become the focus of interest as he seems to have taken his discussions and plans there."

"Can you track the computer?"

Kazuko shook her head. "No, he uses proxyserver protection. Depending how sophisticated that is, it might take a while."

Boyd groaned. "That's...."

"What about the school?" Eve interrupted. "Are they informed? Or prepared for an attack like that?"

"We'll need the layouts of the school lots, in case we'd have to go in." Suddenly, even Martin was all business.

"Yeah, see their emergency plans, their first aid situation, evacuation options." Spencer counted the points down with his fingers.

As the ideas began to pour in, Boyd watched Grace, both of them only listening with half an ear. Spencer directed Stella on what to write down, freeing them both to start forming a plan of action.

In the midst of the brainstorming taking place around them, Grace suddenly looked up, directly at him. Their eyes connected, thoughts passing between them in a clarity that startled them both.

"Here's what we are going to do...."

All eyes turned towards them, startled by the fact that they had spoken at once.

In a chivalrous gesture, Boyd motioned for Grace to continue, answering her raised eyebrow with a quick grin.

She looked as if she wanted to say something, but then swallowed it and addressed the group.

"We'll have to talk to the principal of the school and discuss emergency plans with him. Considering that St. Anthony's is a prestigious school with quite a few VIP-children in attendance, Mr. Healy, the principal, will want to do his utmost to protect the children under his care and at the same time prevent any negative publicity."

"Doesn't mean he'll be receptive to our suggestions, though," Boyd cautioned.

Grace shrugged. "We need to call him in and discuss plans with him nonetheless."

"When?" Stella asked.

"Now!" Boyd threw in impatiently.

Stella flinched and then grimaced, but moved to the phone anyway.

"Tell him to bring the blueprints of the school buildings and the layout of the lot," Martin called after her.

Everybody looked at him with a frown.

Eve got up from her chair. "I'll go look if I can find copies of them in the database. We might need them."

Kazuko, feeling the tension rise, made to follow her. "I'll help."

Standing as well, Grace turned. "Spence, can you make sure we'll have a room that's actually big enough to work with Mr. Healy? And some sort of desk would be nice..." The last was muttered under her breath, but not quietly enough.

"It's not exactly CCU headquarters."

It wasn't and it gave her a feeling of estrangement, but she would never admit that, especially not to Boyd. She still didn't know what to make of his presence, why he was there and not in America. So far she had studiously avoided looking at his hand, not wanting to have confirmation of his possibly changed marital status, either which way.

"No," she croaked out.

The conversation was over with that, Boyd knew, but Grace even moved away to talk quietly with Stella, quite possibly giving her special instructions how to handle Martin.

For a moment earlier, it had been just like old times, and at the same time entirely different. For that one moment they had used some sort of short-hand between them, completely in tune with each other. But it had gone beyond even that. For a moment there had been the keenest understanding between them and not for the first time, Boyd silently wished they could go over their personal issues like that.

Maybe then the last months wouldn't have happened. Maybe then he'd know what was actually going on. Why had she given up? Why run away? Why punish the rest of the team as well?

Without looking up, he could feel her gaze on him, sparking something in him. Some nameless thing.

It was going to be one bloody walk on eggshells, and he didn't necessarily mean the case.


	4. Chapter 4

From the moment James Healy walked into the briefing room, Boyd knew that he'd hate the guts of the man. He'd walked into headquarters as if he'd owned the place, made demands from the get go, and made it clear that he wasn't inclined to listen to the lowlifes he was forced to deal with.

Healy's first complaint had been to ask why he had to work with officers of such a low rank. In his opinion, a DSI didn't have neither enough expertise nor clout to be allowed to breathe the same air as he did.

That pompous idiot probably presented a great image in his equally pompous office, decorated with all his degrees and the awards his staff and pupils had won, or in front of the press. That was his main interest, it seemed, keeping up appearances. Heavens, what would happen if somebody really disrupted his quaint little life?

It took all of Boyd's willpower not to grab the tosser and punch some sense into him.

Turning away in a desperate attempt to control his temper, he could see that neither Spence nor Stella fared any better. In fact, all officers present looked ready to spit fire, as Healy droned on and on about how he didn't see the sense of his meeting and how it kept him from a much more important meeting with prospective attendants of 'high rank.'

Only Eve and Grace remained somewhat calm. Eve probably because she didn't really listen, too busy in her own little world of dead bodies. Grace, on the other hand, kept a calculating eye on Healy, raising the man's hackles with it.

Boyd had to give her that, and a quick eye contact with Spence showed that he agreed; Grace was managing what the sheer number of officers on the case had not done. There were cracks in the principal's carefully drawn mask of success. His unease was growing, but with it the verbal attacks.

Only one more word, one wrong word against Grace, and that bastard would find himself with several fists in his face and gut. Boyd knew it, was even waiting for it; Spence knew it, and even Martin would join it.

Grace, however, waited out Healy's rant, until he had to draw breath. It wasn't much different from the times when she had to interrupt Boyd in his rants, similar to the classic tactics you were taught about dealing with people behaving unreasonably.

With a sugary smile and without raising her voice, she told Healy to sit down and listen to her. Then, with no small amount of sarcasm, she reminded the man that the numbers in applications for his prestigious school would drop drastically once there had actually been a shooting. That there'd be the question of leadership in crisis situations. That there would be a discussion about funding, about positions....

It was blackmail, she knew, a downright threat, but it did the job so marvellously that afterwards, Healy at least stopped openly offending them. Efficiency didn't rise much, though, because now, the principal seemed to play dumb.

Intelligence and care obviously did not play a large role in gaining the position of head teacher at St. Anthony's.

The evacuation plan Martin, Spence and Stella had hammered out didn't meet with Healy's approval, as he pointed out that there was already an emergency plan in place. What he said, and nobody in the room could be sure he told them the full truth, sounded awfully shortcoming, but without a direct order from the Commissioner....

The entire time their meeting lasted, Boyd fought hard not to tell Healy where to shove it and though she guarded it much better, judging from Grace's expression, she agreed. It didn't mean, though, that she didn't shoot him warning looks several times when his voice rose.

In the end, Healy stomped out and running into Commissioner Hutchinson, declared quite loudly that he'd go to the press and complain about the incapability and ensuing laziness of the team, before running out completely. The papers of the security scheme for his school remained on the table.

Hutchinson marched in, reminding them of both the time frame and the necessity to work with Healy and not against him. The entire team swallowed their replies, anger boiling hotly in their guts. Hutchinson gave each of them a look, taking longest with Boyd, before settling on Grace.

Being busy with themselves, nobody could see their actual expressions, but as the Commissioner left, Stella could have sworn that he'd blushed in embarrassment. The younger members of the team followed him out, intent on setting up their desks as they had planned to when Healy had shown up.

Once they'd all had left, Boyd slammed his fist on the table. "My God, what a pompous...."

"Boyd!"

"What, Grace?! You can only hope he treats the kids in his school better than us. Hutchinson too!"

"He'd be removed from his position if he didn't give the impression of politeness and interest, I presume." Her smile was crooked as she leaned against the wall regarding him. "A keen reader of people, this Mr. Healy."

"Pompous git!"

"Enjoyed riling you up, too."

"Just proves my point."

"But doesn't help."

"So?"

She didn't answer.

"Oh come on, Grace." He sat down with annoyed supplication. "He's only interested in his image not being tarnished and not having to move his arse for it. Even you know that."

She didn't answer that either.

Just gave him a long look.

It was then that he realized that they were alone in this room. The door closed, no windows in the walls, they were truly alone. If they locked the door, nobody would disturb them.

They were truly alone in here. He, she...and whatever it was between them.

Almost instantly, he fell silent as well and fixed his eyes on her. It was the first time that he could take her in, see how she looked, how she had changed or not. Earlier, there had been interruptions, other things on his mind, a case to work on, but all that was far away now.

Her shirt was some sort of lavender blue, a colour that suited her well. It always had, he remembered, brought out the colour of her eyes, gave her skin a bit more glow. She was pale, apparently didn't get much sun where she now lived either. The shadows under her eyes had lessened, he noticed that too. Her body, he didn't hide the open appraisal of her silhouette, still slender and surprisingly trim, though he knew that she wasn't much of a sports person. She now wore a cardigan against the coolness of the air-conditioning. It hid her curves mostly, which thinking back to Healy had been probably a good idea.

Still, all that was superficial, even though tracing the lines and curves of her body and face with his eyes was so familiar, so....

There was something in her posture, the way the lines and wrinkles on her face rearranged themselves that felt like a kick in the gut. She was uneasy in his presence, uncomfortable being alone with him.

And there was something in her eyes, something churning as angrily as it had when he had seen her last, when she had shouted at him, stared at him in anger, and then left, leaving him standing in the rain. There had been something in her eyes then, something he now knew she had tried to show him, but none of it had made sense.

It was there now, but along with it there was something harsh and dead. And there was defeat, in her, in him, he wasn't sure.

She shivered, which he found odd, considering that the room seemed entirely too hot for comfort. "Grace...."

Their eyes connected again, but this time he couldn't read what hers were saying. Couldn't, though he knew that he needed to, needed to find out, needed to understand. Why had she run? Why then? And why the way she did?

"Grace...," he whispered, not even aware that he did or that it sounded breathless. Getting up, he closed the distance between them, suddenly standing so close to her that he could smell her, feel the heat of her body, could imagine the texture of her skin under his fingertips. He raised his hand, his thumb hovering over her chin, unsure whether to touch that or her lips.

His eyes found hers, now much more readable than before.

They were really alone in this room, nobody would disturb them and what was happening between them. The atmosphere was charged with heat, heady and dizzying.

"Grace?"

* * *

 

She almost jumped at the voice, while he stiffened noticeably, his hand falling limply down to his side. Her eyes widened in an afterthought to the intimacy they had shared a moment before, before she looked away in embarrassment and then focussed on the man who had just entered the room.

The way that man was looking at Grace riled Peter's temper up. "Visitors are not allowed at this point in the building, mister!" he snarled.

Grace still didn't look at him, but instead took a step closer to the man. "What is it, Jeremy?" she asked politely, masking the tiredness in her voice. It had been a long day and she was neither in the mood nor in a fit state to mediate a testosterone-induced ego fight.

"I was looking for you to take you out to dinner. It's late and I'm sure you haven't eaten properly all day." Bartlett gave her his most charming smile.

"I forgot. A lot work to do."

"I know." Bartlett kept smiling. "But I know how you are when you have a case. You forget everything around you. So, I'm taking it upon myself to look after you this time. And I've booked a table for 7.30."

She sighed. "Jeremy, really...."

"It's the restaurant at our hotel, or we can call room service, if you are absolutely set against going out."

"Jeremy...."

"Grace!" he replied with charming insistence. "You need to relax and you need to eat. I'm not accepting no as an answer."

Behind her she could feel Boyd coming closer. Even after months, or maybe because of them, she felt his physical presence like flames licking at her. The memory of a few minutes earlier, her name like a caress from his mouth, his hand hovering just above her skin, his body so close they'd almost touched flickered before her inner eye, driving heat through her.

She hadn't wanted this, any of this, tonight. Not Boyd, not Jeremy. She'd wanted to call her children once she finished and meet them for a late dinner or drink, wouldn't have minded to sleep on the couch at one of their places, but it was out of question now.

Boyd behind her, Jeremy before her....

"Grace?" He sounded so...she couldn't describe it, and almost against her will heard herself replying, "Alright Jeremy, you win. But it is going to be a short dinner. I am exhausted."

Disbelieving, Boyd took another step closer, leaving barely an inch between them and generating a heat that he felt keenly. She must have felt it too, he knew, for she almost fled their proximity, grabbing her file and starting for the door.

"I'll see you in the morning, Boyd. 6 a.m. sharp," she called over her shoulder, and allowed Bartlett to lead her out of the room.

* * *

 

"You look like you'd want something much stronger. Why the beer?"

"Chances are we get called back in and I want to remain sober enough to deal with what comes up properly." He turned back to the bar and sipped his beer.

"That's a new one, Boyd. News coming up never stopped you before," Eve replied quietly before sipping her own beer. "So, why now?"

He didn't respond and instead stared into his glass.

"Boyd?" Eve tried again.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"I know I'm not Grace, but...."

"Just...forget it, Eve!" he declared, obviously swallowing his instinctive reaction. "It's nothing."

She eyed him, trying to make sense of his behaviour. The Boyd she knew would have flown off the handle several times over the course of this day. Her prodding about personal matters just now would have guaranteed it too.

This man here was working hard, visibly hard, to control himself. It made her wonder what had happened during his American venture. Despite their previous pub meetings, neither she nor Stella had found out why Boyd had given up on his relationship with Sarah and returned to London. His only explanation was the lukewarm claim to have missed the city.

Naturally, they had their theories, especially about one glaringly obvious reason, but without confirmation, it would remain a theory.

"You know, Boyd...."

"Stop it, Eve, will you? I don't want to talk about it."

"I'm not...."

"Just...shove it!" His grip on the glass tightened as the vein on his temple swelled. His free hand clenched into a fist that lay heavily on the bar while he pushed himself away from the furniture and slowly turned. Instinctively, Eve took a step back. Spencer and Stella, who had stood at a nearby table nursing their own drinks, moved closer.

"Boyd...?" Stella tried.

His head whipped around glaring at the young woman. Taking a deep breath....

A moment of tension went by. Then another.

His mobile phone ringing pierced the tension like a needle.


	5. Chapter 5

"What do we have?" Boyd all but shouted into the room where Kazuko was glued to a computer screen and Martin paced anxiously.

"Dr. Foley with you?" the constable asked carefully.

The question raised Boyd's shackles. "Do you see her with us?"

Martin shook his head, taken aback, so Spencer quickly moved between the two men to run interference. "She's on her way. Shouldn't be more than five minutes." His body blocking Boyd, he turned towards the other man. "How urgent is it?"

"If the guy is serious about his newest idea, very."

"What does that mean?" Boyd charged at the younger man. "Talk, man! We haven't got all day! You heard that idiot Healy and Hutchinson earlier!" His hands rose as if to grab Martin's lapels.

"Boyd!" That was Grace's voice. She carefully deposited her bag and coat on a table near the door and went to the centre of the room. Turning to Leigh, she gave her a small smile. "What do you have, Kazuko?"

The IT-specialist returned the smile tentatively, somewhat taken aback by Boyd's brashness that she had so far only heard about. "I kept watch on the latest chatroom protocols, thought that 'fbuckity' would reveal more of his plans as it came closer to the announced date."

"And?"

"It's...really...big!" Martin announced

Boyd opened his mouth to yell at him to get to the point. God, now wonder that guy was still only a Constable. He talked too much and enjoyed it as well.

"Kazuko?" Grace gently interrupted the ensuing fight. Everybody could see that she was weary, not up to mediating some useless brawl.

The IT-specialist turned, her face pale. "Our target has apparently found a friend by the username of 'srllfj.' They kept going back and forth about how to construct weapons, where to acquire materials and such."

"And the construction plans are easily available on the internet, I assume," Eve inserted ironically.

Nobody answered.

"Who do you think is the leader of the two?" Stella asked.

"From what I read, it's the new guy who's better with the technology and who knows more about how to get the stuff they need. 'fbuckity' is the one who calls the attention to himself."

"Which would make him the more likely to go through with the plan, Grace? The other guy just tells him what to do and he does it?"

"It's possible, Boyd...."

He heaved an exasperated sigh. "Is it likely?!"

She shrugged. "Usually, a boy who plans to go into his own school and shoot people believes that he's been wronged. Unfairly marked, ignored by his peers, shunned by the girls, uncared for by his parents and guardians, the whole works. He talks about it beforehand to his friends or now online, even if he speaks in code. If," Grace held a hand up to raise attention to the point, "if there were two boys involved, they'd talk about their perceived mistreatment as well."

Eve shook her head. "There's been no mention of a reason yet, as if they don't have any."

"Just playing around, maybe?"

"Bloody dangerous game they are playing then," Spencer mumbled.

"It's too risky to leave it at speculation. Their plans have gone too far," Martin said into the silence, his eyes going between Grace and Boyd, who had not said anything further.

"What you are saying, Grace, is that whoever those two guys are, they have internal knowledge of St. Anthony's," Boyd picked up the conversation again.

"Yes. School shooters don't go into a strange school. They want to resolve the grudges they have with their own."

Spencer nodded from his seat, twisting his hands on the table. "St. Anthony's has 763 pupils attending. And we need to check each pupil's computer, because every one of them could be our man."

"Basically...."

"That's a lot of computers," Stella added quietly.

"That's a nightmare," Colin Martin groaned.

"Yeah. We'd need an individual search warrant for each of them," Eve continued, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"But what if it isn't a current attendee? It could be an alumni, and he could be everywhere!" That was Kazuko.

"Meaning?" As if the idea of all the red tape in their way wasn't bad enough, Boyd could feel an additional headache grow.

She turned a little red, feeling uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "They are using proxyserver-programmes...."

"Which are masking the actual and unique IP-addresses of their computers...."

"They are using very sophisticated programmes, which means it will take a while to track them."

"Unfortunately, we won't have the time." Constable Martin's voice sounded strained. "If they went through with their newest idea, it could happen very quickly." He paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. This was new territory for him as well and once he left the playing around behind, he knew they wouldn't get a second chance. "That's why we called you in. They've gone off the firearms and want to use grenades now. A hit and run with bombs."

* * *

 

The information led to a momentary lapse in composure. Nobody said a word, but all reactions - be it pacing, covering their faces, falling into chairs - showed signs of shock.

After a few minutes, Stella went to the coffee maker and placed full mugs in front of everyone.

"They could be anywhere. Just fly in, get the bombs, throw them, and leave the country again?" It wasn't really a question and Spence was fully aware of its inanity, but at the moment he could not word a more sophisticated comment.

"It would be more of a terrorist attack than a school shooting."

"If they don't shoot...." Almost all eyes turned to Boyd, ready to hit him. Leaning back, he glared back at them.

There were uneasy shuffles as tension mounted again. Only Grace seemed oblivious, having retreated into her thoughts.

Boyd watched her carefully, knowing that she needed the time to process the information, come to some conclusions. There was a fatigue about her that seemed to have increased since she'd left headquarters with that guy earlier, dinner not being able to relax her.

It worried him a little, reminded him of the time of the Greene case, which was a memory he preferred to push to a far corner of his mind. She had been remote and quiet back then as well, so far withdrawn into herself that they never really resolved their issues with the case.

Getting up from his chair, he walked over to produce some tea, which he placed directly in front of her. "Grace?" he asked quietly. His focus on her, he missed the glances that were exchanged behind his back.

Grace stared at the mug for a moment, then up at his face. She didn't really see him, only reacted to his voice, but suddenly she blinked and, with a grateful smile, accepted the tea. "We need to be absolutely certain whether we deal with a possible school shooting, a terrorist attack or...." She paused, loathe to say it out loud. "a lark."

"A lark?" Martin snorted. "They plan on bombing the school! That's not a lark!"

Five angry pairs of eyes glared at him, while the sixth seemed generally amused or dismissive. That wasn't entirely clear. "I'm not saying that the joke isn't a dangerous one, but we can't rule it out."

"What exactly are we looking for, Grace?" Stella asked.

"Motives?" Eve interjected with a small grin.

"Terrorists would give a reason why the attack is a just act...."

"And an angry boy would scream that he has been wronged so badly and will exact his revenge."

"Very good, Spence..."

"None of it has appeared yet," Kazuko said quietly. "There is nothing in the protocols...."

"Which points towards the lark theory."

"Basically, yes."

"That line of evidence is a little flimsy, if you ask me. We'll need a bit more substantial proof to go to Hutchinson and tell him where to sod it. Not to mention that tosser, Healy." As much as he wanted to be rid of either man, closing an investigation in such a half-baked state didn't sit well with Boyd.

"Especially if it is not a joke." Grace shook her head as she got up to pace around the meeting room. "We need to probe deeper...."

"Lets join the chat then. They are public, aren't they, so everybody with a computer can join?" At Kazuko's nod, Boyd continued. "We'd get firsthand information, prod around a bit too. And if we use those proxyservers you mentioned," he nodded at the IT-specialist, "we'd remain anonymous." With a pleased gesture, he looked at them. "We should have done that right away...."

"Sounds good," both Kazuko and Colin agreed immediately. Stella and Eve nodded as well. It was Spence and Grace who didn't look convinced, both remembering another chat, blue light, a distorted voice and a vicious Japanese knife.

Boyd, however, was already halfway to the computer, Kazuko sat at. "How long will it take to set it up?

A long look passed between Grace and Spencer.

Then she suddenly ordered, "Stella, get me Hutchinson on the phone."

Taken aback at the sudden turn in the conversation, Stella stared at her superior. "Now? It's after midnight."

"So?"

"Hutchinson won't be in his office any more and I doubt they'll patch me through to his house at this time of the night."

Grace's response was a derisive snort. "Tell them that Dr. Foley wants to speak to him. I am very sure that Commissioner Hutchinson will do his utmost to talk to me, even at this time of the night."

Everybody in the room stared at her. This was not the Grace they thought they knew. The Grace they knew had, despite her ability to argue with the best of them, been more soft-spoken, more of a mediator than an aggressor. These new, Boyd-like features looked odd, felt strange.

"Stella, I am waiting...."

With a nod and a nervous grimace towards her team mates, the young officer did as she was told.

* * *

 

In a way, it surprised nobody that the Commissioner called back mere minutes later.


	6. Chapter 6

Most of the morning had been spent browsing around in chatrooms and message boards to find out more about their possible assassins, but most of it had remained unsuccessful.

They had all taken it as a somewhat positive sign, pointing towards the chatters still being teenagers and enrolled at St. Anthony's. It would narrow the number of suspects down considerably, and the way things were, they needed a little help.

Still, the mood was by no means better, which was partially due to impatient phone calls by Healy and three personal appearances by the Commissioner. Both Boyd and Spence were individually plotting a little encounter with the principal that would have no witnesses and a few inexplicably violent results, especially after the fourth call where the man had the audacity to call Grace names. It didn't bother Boyd much when people badmouthed him; in fact, he saw it as a regular part of his life, but nobody, absolutely nobody, was allowed to insult Grace.

She, however, had remained surprisingly calm throughout, waiting for Healy to finish his rant and then quietly suggesting that he'd cool off before they discussed any further. As the man yelled on, she had simply terminated the call and scribbled a few notes on her papers.

"I don't think we need to waste your time profiling that arse, Grace," Boyd commented laconically. "He's an...."

"You've said that before, Boyd," she replied with a slight smile, but continued writing. "However, I think a profile of Mr. Healy will come in handy at some point."

"Hmm," Eve agreed. "For a man whose position is so dependent on cooperating with us, he's awfully uncooperative."

"That's because he's a git, a pompous git!"

"We understand that, Boyd."

The ensuing discussion was interrupted by Commissioner Hutchinson's second visit of the day. The first had left the team a little floored, since after Grace's somewhat disrespectful phone call the night before, they had expected the man to be pissed off and yelling, but none of the sort had happened. They didn't know the content of the nightly phone call, but it was clear that Hutchinson deferred to Grace's demands.

He'd looked almost meek, which was a strange sight to begin with, but the whispered conversation with Grace had made her smile and him look relieved. They'd left the office then to continue their chat, now more engaged and friendly than the day before.

Surprised looks had been exchanged between the team and lips bitten to keep from grinning at Boyd's scowl.

By the time Grace came back half an hour later, her mood had definitely improved, while Boyd's had still not completely recovered. Hence his anger at the phone calls from Healy and his cutting and unqualified remarks in the aftermath.

The reason for Grace's pleasure became obvious as Hutchinson did show up a second time, right after the call to Healy, bringing along a strange man in his 30s.

To Grace, however, the man seemed no stranger, since she exclaimed "Tim! So good to see you!" and happily shook the man's hand. It looked as if she'd want to hug him, but refrained from it at the last second.

Tim McKinsey, it turned out, was her assistant, whose presence with the team she had specifically demanded the night before.

The members of the former CCU eyed him with at least a little curiosity, if not suspicion. He looked pleasant enough, was probably capable enough, but they weren't certain why Grace would need an assistant when she had several people just waiting for her orders.

Naturally, Boyd didn't keep his mouth shut about the fact that one psychologist on the case was more than enough, earning him a few scathing looks at first and a slammed door later.

It was almost like old times, the arguments, the lack of reason. Boyd was still Boyd and Grace was still Grace. What was also just like old times was seeing Boyd mope around as soon as Grace left. And though she didn't like the position one bit, Eve took Boyd aside for a few calming words. First Stella, then Spencer came closer as well, their conversation in hushed whispers, which the others watched with curiosity.

"Mr. Boyd?" Tim said tentatively, "I assure you...."

"Forget it," Boyd interrupted him. "I was out of line just now. I apologize."

Despite their conversation just now, the former team mates stared at him wide-eyed. Maybe Boyd wasn't exactly Boyd anymore?

* * *

 

"Jeremy." Grace exasperated voice became clearly audible even through the closed doors, announcing her return. "I requested Tim because he is a communications-expert. That was your main reason for hiring him. Commissioner Hutchinson agreed with me that Tim's presence here would be beneficial to the case and...." She paused and apparently turned away from the door, blocking it with her body, "he takes care of the funding, so I really don't see why you get so worked up over this."

Bartlett's voice sounded aggravated, making them all raise their eyebrows. "It's an interference with my organisation, Grace. Not even the Metropolitan Police can just waltz into my organisation, monopolise my staff, and think they'll get away with it."

"They made a request and you specifically told me that refusal was not an option." Grace's irritation grew by the second.

"It doesn't give them the right to just take my," the emphasis was not lost on anybody, "employees and do whatever they like with them. Tim is on my salary list, as are you, Grace, if I have to remind you."

Inside the room Tim cringed. It wasn't a new discussion; Bartlett didn't like to lose control over his employees and Grace's tendency to do things her own way, the reason for it having already become obvious, ruffled him greatly. Tim knew that Grace could handle it, but still, it was an awkward situation. One that the police officers were not happy with at all.

In fact, both the DSI and the DI looked murderous, the women next to them barely more controlled.

Outside the room, Jeremy Bartlett was getting annoyed. The situation was unacceptable. The second day in a row he was spending at police headquarters, both of them a tedium of waiting for her. His business responsibilities had been taken care of in less than three hours and the lunch he had taken alone hadn't improved his mood. Ever since the phone call during dinner last night he had been in a foul mood, especially when hearing that Grace had been back to the hotel but not seen fit to contact him.

The Commissioner's dismissal from the day before was an affront, and the fact that he was treated like some ordinary visitor with little security clearance even more so. He wasn't used to such treatment. They had asked for his people, his organisation, and now they treated him like some paper boy. That was simply not to be accepted.

Just like the glances that were thrown his way. People stood and stared, their expressions between annoyance and a little too much curiosity for his liking.

Taking her arm, he pulled her closer and lowered his voice. "Could we go inside this office, please? Or better, out to dinner? It's late already."

Grace stiffened at the touch, which was a little tighter than she felt comfortable with, and the man's closeness. "Jeremy...."

"Mr. Bartlett, that room is off limits for everybody not directly involved in the case," Commissioner Hutchinson interrupted the exchange, using his full height deliberately. He still had a good three inches on Bartlett and now made sure it showed. "I'm afraid you don't have the security clearance to enter the room. Ill also have to kindly ask you," he paused for effect, his words deliberately drawn out, "to leave this area here. It is not open to visitors either."

The occupants of the room stared at each other, then tried to catch a glimpse through the blinds of how the power struggle would unfold.

In the end, Bartlett stalked off, ramming Hutchinson's shoulder as he passed him. The other man shook his head, a little amused, but in full awareness that he had won this round. "He seems a little aggravated," he commented offhandedly. "Unusual for a man who puts such importance on his perfect image."

Grace only sighed. "Was there something in particular that you wanted, Commissioner? We are working as hard and as fast as we can. Even Mr. Healy should be aware that this is a delicate and highly dangerous situation." She leaned back against the door, feeling completely exhausted. As if the case wasn't problematic enough, the worst case scenario weighing heavily on her mind, she felt trapped between four men who were trying to pull her in different directions. And there was still....

"That's what I told Mr. Healy. I also reminded him that his cooperation would ensure progress much more easily." Smiling, the Commissioner stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on her arm. "I guess he'll do it in person too, but Mr. Healy asked me to pass on his apologies for his earlier words. Something about him having lost control and not meaning to be so impolite.... You did make an impression."

* * *

 

They'd decided to have a raffle for who'd stay and watch the chat that evening. Colin had lost and would take the first shift, while Eve, obviously out of work for the moment, volunteered to take the nightshift.

After Hutchinson's third visit, they'd devised a script for how to behave in the chat. For the moment it would be nothing but hello and 'interesting topics you have here' and 'just lurking and lazing around,' but it would start them somewhere.

It impressed him, Boyd had to admit, how precisely and quickly this assistant of Grace's had come up with the lines. That young man and Grace had the profiles of those two chatters - as far as they could at this point - down within minutes. But he couldn't help it, and he could see it on the faces of his former team mates as well, it gave him a pang to see how well Grace worked with somebody else. How it was now a stranger with whom she played this game of mind ping pong, just like they used to do.

Their working style was like that game as they fired out words and lines against each other in quick succession, so that the others had a bit of trouble keeping up in typing the lines out.

As the printout lay finished on the table, they had decided on the pub as a way of relaxation.

And now grouped around the table, they all felt the awkwardness. The seating arrangements had taken a moment, as basically everybody had vied for the spots next to Grace. She raised her eyebrows at that, but didn't comment. In the end, it turned out to be Kazuko and Tim acting as a bit of a buffer zone, Eve thought. For a moment they all sat there, eyeing each other, nobody sure where to start.

Tim was startled when Boyd and Spence went to get the drinks for everybody, but neither asked Grace what she wanted. "They forgot to ask you," he commented, already getting up to follow the other men, but Grace shook her head.

"They know what to get," Stella answered instead.

"Okay...." He eyed the women around him, wondering about their behaviour, but since Dr. Foley seemed to be perfectly comfortable with the arrangement, settling into conversation with the other women, he decided to just follow her lead.

"Have you known each other for long?" he asked a while later after they had ordered food and a toast had been made.

Kazuko shook her head, claiming that she was new to the team, but nodded to the others with a shy grin. "It's a bit like working with legends."

Derisive snorts sounded all around the table at that. "Legends? Oh please...," Eve ground out, nearly choking on her drink.

"Your clear up rate is unbelievable." Though blushing furiously, Kazuko held her ground. "I even put in a transfer request for your unit, but it fell to the wayside when the unit was dissolved...."

The sudden tension around the table could have been cut with a knife, the former team mates finding their glasses very interesting at once. As if by avoiding each other's eyes they could make this topic go away, they looked anywhere but the people around the table.

There it was, the ghost in the room. Sooner or later, it would have become a topic, none of them was so delusional as not to expect it. But knowing it and going through with it were two very different things, and avoidance looked very tempting as it was.

From his place as a clueless observer, Tim found the situation fascinating, even more so since it gave him a lot more insight into his boss than he had expected. The look on her face was clear; she wanted to be anywhere but here and she wanted to do anything but this.

He found it odd to see how, out of the blue, the four others looked up to stare at her.

* * *

 

Grace felt the eyes on her. How could she not, since six pairs of eyes were trained on her? They all demanded an answer, she knew, one she couldn't and wasn't willing to give. She had said her piece before and had remained unheard. She wouldn't do it again. Not for him or for anybody. Defiantly, she looked up, her eyes instantly connecting with Boyd's.

Even though the din of the pub was around them, people talking, glasses and tableware clinking, music in the background, in their world there was no noise. They were alone in a world of two, unaware of the people sitting at their table, of the glances that were thrown at them. None of it existed in the world that included only them and the connection of their eyes.

Words were spoken in the connection, thoughts and feelings laid open, but they were mumbled, as if in a haze. His eyes widened, just as her heart rate sped up and blood was pumping in her ears, deafening her to all else. All she knew, all she could see and feel, were his eyes: his questions, her questions, but no answers.

The heat rising in her body had nothing to do with alcohol or the heating of the room. And it wasn't even the exposure to people's scrutiny, which she became momentarily aware of, as Kazuko bumped into her slightly. No, the heat was entirely due to Boyd's eyes connecting with hers and the never-seen-before desires they projected.


	7. Chapter 7

They all were walking on tiptoes the next morning as coffee was distributed and sandwiches handed out. Colin, Kazuko and Tim eyed the dark cloud over Boyd's head with something akin to fear, while everybody else just steered clear of him. There were occasional glances, most of them directed at Grace, because one thing was obvious: Boyd's exorbitantly bad mood had a lot to do with her.

They could also guess rather well where it came from.

Boyd wasn't unaware of how the rest of the team reacted to his mood, but didn't really plan to calm down any time soon. There had been a moment last night when he had thought that Grace and he understood each other, that they were closer to the point where it all became clear, but then her phone rang and destroyed the moment.

What was worse, though, was the way her face lit up as she recognised the caller and how her voice had softened for her replies. It couldn't have been any more obvious that the caller was a man and that there was some sort of romantic relationship between them. She had fled the table to continue the call, probably to whisper sweet nothings to that man, and Boyd's imagination had run wild.

If it had been a different situation, he would have mocked himself for the way his imagination worked, but he could hear the tone of her voice so clearly in his mind, what she would say, could almost feel how her breath would tickle his skin when she said those words to him....

When she returned to the table, she didn't volunteer any information and no amount of teasing, or later on grilling Tim, had produced any information on the caller. In fact, it seemed as if McKinsey was as surprised as they were. But there was this small smile on her face, an expression of serenity that they knew only too well, but had seen so rarely over the years. It replayed again and again before Boyd's inner eye as he desperately tried to find sleep that night.

She had left fairly quickly after dinner, giving her key card to Tim while she went to camp out at one her children's place. Boyd hadn't even caught which of the three.

Only much later, actually, at 2 in the morning when he still couldnt sleep, did it occur to him that Bartlett would be in for an unpleasant surprise should he try to come onto his star psychologist that night or in the morning. The hilarity that thought induced didn't last long, though, as his thoughts returned to the mysterious phone call.

Even when he finally drifted into a restless sleep, almost sensory images of her voice, soft and sensual, filled his mind.

Waking up tired and frustrated, his...whatever it was...had turned into anger at her, at that mysterious man, the time that had passed and the distance between them.

She seemed to have expected his foul mood, for she didn't act surprised by his brash behaviour, but instead ignored him. The blatant disregard for his anger rattled him even more.

"Boyd!"

"What?" he bellowed and turned, coming face to face with the profiler.

Grace gave him a calm glance, devoid of emotion, and if nothing else, that upset him even more.

"Team talk," she continued almost sweetly. "Since we have a commissioner and a principal breathing down our necks, we should decide on a course of action, don't you agree?"

Eve, overly tired and basically existing on coffee, was starting to point out that the Commissioner might like to breathe down Grace's neck in a different type of setting, but one look at the almost tangible cloud over Boyd's head stopped her. Actually, she almost felt for him. If there was a new man in Grace's life, it would make repairing the relationship between Boyd and Grace all the more difficult. Or impossible.

"If I understood you correctly," Grace turned first to Colin, then to Eve, "there's not been any new information in the chats last night."

Both shook their heads. "I just said hello, like we planned, and hung around. I didn't start asking questions, so they wouldn't be suspicious," Colin replied between mouthfuls of coffee.

"Neither did I. Just joined into the conversation every now and then, nothing they'd pick up on."

"They stayed in that chatroom all the time?"

"Yeah."

"You sure they didn't start a new one?" Boyd pressed on.

Colin drew a deep breath for a quick reply, but a warning glare from Eve stopped him.

"Okay," Grace continued with a tired sigh, ignoring Boyd's annoyed stare behind her back. She could feel it, but then she doubted that anybody on this floor could miss Boyd's frustration at the moment. "This doesn't make your task any easier. We'll have to go two different roads with this, I guess. Kazuko," she glanced at the young woman who, from the looks of it, would have preferred to melt with the wall and become invisible. "Your job is clear, you'll track the IP-address of our two friends. And please pass on a list of web-addresses where one would normally acquire the materials for bomb construction from. Pass them on to Stella. That's your venue for the morning."

"Colin, you and Spencer go and check whether any materials have been traded in town within the last few days. Colin, you'll get additional lists of places from CO19 and SO2. I've called the Commissioner to make sure you'll get all the support you need for your enquiries."

Turning towards Tim, she gave him a small smile. They'd had a bit of a memorable encounter earlier in the day, which might cause a bit of trouble in the future, but for the moment they were only amused by it. "Tim, I need you to devise a scheme for the questionings in St. Anthony's later today. You and Boyd need to have it ready, so we can go efficiently through as many interviews as possible today."

The officers quickly dispersed to start with their tasks, but all of them threw cautious glances at Boyd, who had stiffened as the tasks were distributed. They could all see that he wasn't at all pleased that Grace didn't even look at him while putting him to work, and given his general opinion of psychologists and his initial reaction to McKinsey....

"What about me?" Eve asked, slowly moving between Grace and Boyd before an eruption of temper could occur.

Grace smiled as she turned and looked at Eve. "We will go down to your lab with these protocols and look for references to particular students. We'll start the interviews with them."

"Grace." Boyd's voice was flat.

She gave him a long look, communicating more with it than she could have probably said with words, and gradually, Boyd relaxed. She closed the distance between them then, stood so close that their bodies were touching. "We are going to deal with teenagers, boys and girls. Keep that in mind, will you?" she murmured quietly, a crooked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Without even wanting to, Boyd felt himself respond in the same way. "Too bloody long ago to remember," he ground out between his teeth.

She gave him a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. Anticipating her comment, he grinned and whispered, "This was a very grown up sulk."

Both Eve and Grace snorted as they turned and left the room while shaking their heads.

The others quickly decided that the last seconds had not made any sense at all and therefore should quickly be forgotten.

* * *

 

The lab hadn't changed since her last visit a few months ago, and amidst all the chaos of the last days and the emotional upheaval, it felt like a welcome relief.

"Your daughter didn't mind that you suddenly showed up at her doorstep in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on your back?" Eve asked as she moved to the evaporator and lit up a cigarette.

For a moment, Grace looked as if she would ask for a cigarette for herself, but then shook her head and smiled. "No, Maddie took it in stride. I think she was glad I wanted to camp out on her couch instead of staying in some dubious place in town."

Eve smirked, but before she could prod further, Grace chuckled humourlessly. "I'm not sure to which place she referred to as dubious: any place with Boyd near or the hotel with Bartlett."

"Your daughter has fairly strong opinions on the men around you."

Grace only shrugged.

"Does she also have a strong opinion about the man you talked to on the phone last night?"

The spot on the table before her seemed to be the most interesting spot in the universe, the way Grace was staring at it to avoid her gaze. "We should get started on the protocols," she finally said and effectively ended the conversation.

* * *

 

It was shortly before lunch when the team members reunited in the meeting room they had been assigned.

"I think we should lodge an official complaint about the tightness of space in here. You can barely move without running into somebody," Spence grumbled.

"You don't mind such tight spots in the clubs, Spence. In fact, there it can't be tight enough," Stella teased. "Should we be offended that you don't want to get touchy with us?"

Spence rolled his eyes and made a dismissive gesture with his head. Grace and Eve, catching the last words upon entering, chuckled wryly.

"It will please you to hear, Spence, that this room is going to become even more homey when lunch arrives."

The DI looked hopefully at them.

"No, Spence, you'll have to pay for your own pizza." Grace dashed his hope with a smirk.

"You can really smash a guy's optimism." He pouted.

The other three men deliberately avoided joining the conversation at this point, but deeply indrawn breaths could barely be concealed amidst female chuckles.

* * *

 

Lunch came and went and afterwards, they piled into different cars to go to St. Anthony's and start their questionings.

Parking on the other side of the road, Grace held them all back before they marched onto the grounds. "Listen," she instructed quietly, "I announced our visit beforehand and we've been given permission to question the pupils. But...." Holding up her hand, it hovered near Boyd's arm. "Mr. Healy was very reluctant to give it."

Boyd rolled his eyes.

"All I'm saying is, stick to the scripts, do not pressure the children too much, especially the younger ones. And...." A pointed look, "keep your disdain for the upper crust at a minimum. We are only guests here and I don't doubt Mr. Healy will have us removed from the premises immediately and produce a headline about police harassment in his school, if there's even the remotest hint of us misbehaving."

"We only come to help," Stella muttered.

"But we may hit a little too close for comfort for Mr. Healy's position," Tim replied equally quietly. "People entering and working the school from outside usually makes the administration antsy. They feel like they are examined." Taking a deep breath, he gave Grace a look and a shrug. "From their point of view, we put their ability to run the school properly into doubt by coming in and asking questions. Just the suggestion that a pupil might turn against its school with a murder scheme gives the impression that the school couldn't provide properly for his or her need. It questions Mr. Healy's ability to run the school."

"Which makes him pissy and uncooperative. And a bloody pain in the arse!"

"Boyd!" Despite the warning in her voice, there was a twitch in the corners of Grace's mouth. "Behave!"

"Always...."

* * *

 

The first interviews went relatively well, most of them not gathering any new information, but at least removing those kids from their lists. It was a quick process, and with the progress made, the team's mood improved considerably.

It was shortly after 3 when Tim and Stella sat down with a girl of about 15. Despite the proper uniform, Tim found the air about her a little off the mark. While watching Dr. Foley over the last months, he had learned to trust the first instinct, the 'something in the air.' Looking at Stella, she nodded in agreement.

"Hello, can you give us your name and age, please?" Stella started with a polite smile.

"Libby Baynes." The reply wasn't impolite, just a little reluctant. "15."

"Okay," Tim smiled encouragingly, "is it alright if we call you Libby?"

The girl shrugged.

"Libby, can you tell us a bit about your form group?"

She eyed them with some adversity. "What do you wanna know?"

Stella shrugged. "Are there any computer geniuses in it? Or some really good sports people?"

"Yeah. The usual. A few nerds and a few sporties. Just the usual."

"Are you one of them? Sports type, I mean."

She shook her head, a small embarrassed grin flickering in the corner of her mouth.

"You're good with computers then?" Another shake of the head.

"We don't mean to embarrass you." Tim smiled again, seeing that this line of questioning wouldn't get them anywhere. "What's your best thing then?" he asked.

"Dancing!" she announced, suddenly sitting straighter.

"Oh good, can you teach one of my friends how to do it? The guy thinks he's a regular Ricky Martin, but he can't move to save his life," Stella exclaimed.

This time the girl really smiled, though it didn't last long. "What do you really wanna know?" she asked after a moment, the earlier detached boredom returning to her expression.

"Okay...gloves off then," Tim started, still smiling. "Tell us something about the kids in your class. Who hates whom, who likes whom. Who's an idiot. And which of the boys would you neither snog nor shag in a million years?"

Next to him, Stella frowned, a little annoyed, while Libby first snorted and then leaned back in her chair.

As she left the room ten minutes later, Tim thoughtfully rubbed over the stubble on his chin. "Didn't we have a script for these interviews, Mr. McKinsey?" Stella asked carefully.

"We do. And young Ms. Baynes didn't tell us everything."

"It's more than we've got from the others so far."

"True." Getting up, Tim made for the door, hoping to have a quick word with Grace about the situation. "But the main point is that she knows that she didn't tell us everything and she knows that we know it."

As they stepped outside into the hallway, they saw Spence and Colin in quiet conversation.

"Where's Grace?" Tim asked.

A quick hand gesture pointed towards the staff lounge where Grace and Boyd conducted interviews with the staff.

"That girl just now," Colin asked, "something the matter with her?"

Stella nodded, but signalled that it would have to wait until later.

It took only a few minutes, and didn't surprise either of the four when an incensed Mr. Healy marched up to them and demanded to speak to their superior about their misconduct.


	8. Chapter 8

It took more than a little effort to calm Healy down. As they sat in the car on their way back, Grace felt more exhausted than the days before. She had taken on this case reluctantly, was still loath to deal with it. It was taking more out of her than she had expected and she felt it keenly.

A lot had to do with the fact that she didn't want the case in the first place. Mr. Healy's bone-headedness increased her dislike; the commissioner and Bartlett pulling at her, in different directions and at the same time, didn't help either. And then there was Boyd and the team, but mostly Boyd.

She must look a mess, but sleep had eluded her for the last two nights and since Maddie had given her the bed, she couldn't really blame it on the somewhat rickety sofa in her daughter's flat. Her thoughts had churned and whirled, creating a mess of images and ideas in her mind that left her too keyed up to rest. Grace wasn't sure what the others had gathered from yesterday's phone call, only that they seemingly had jumped to conclusions.

Boyd too, just as she had upon seeing him again. Earlier today, she had finally dared to check out his ring fingers and found both of them devoid of a ring. But what did it mean?

A man who moved to another continent to "make a go of the relationship" wasn't back a few months later just like that. At least not Peter Boyd. Why was he back? Had he gone at all?

Those questions were like a broken record in her mind, repeating and repeating ad nauseam. It was a useless exercise to think about it, downright destructive, Grace knew that, but what else was she supposed to do?

Boyd hadn't been on the phone privately, but did that mean there was nobody or did it mean that he had a no-phone calls rule? And if he was in a relationship - with Sarah or any other woman - why did he look at her, Grace, like last night? Why could she see flickers of romantic affection, of desire in his eyes?

They had been interrupted twice now, each time seemingly only a hairbreadth away from all questions answered. Each time she had been of two minds about the interruption. Usually, the relief won out. Boyd was no closer to understanding what she had tried to tell him months ago and as long as he didn't figure it out, it was useless.

There were moments when the anger at him turned so hot and acid that she thought it would burn her away from inside out. Sometimes it hurt to breathe, thinking how ignorant he was and how callously he acted because of it. Sometimes she didn't know what was worse, the humiliation of being rejected or the embarrassment of not even having been understood.

Grace wasn't a coward, though disappearing the way she had looked like it, but the moment she had closed the door behind her that day, something inside her had broken. The sound of rain dripping onto the hardwood floor mingling with her gasping breaths had created a cacophony of despair. Her hand stung from the slap she had dealt Boyd, the skin of her cheeks from the dried tear tracks. Her eyes, her lungs, her heart, everything burned. Worst of all, though, was the awareness that this chapter of her life was over and she hadn't even realized it was ending. She had seen the signs, but ignored them until the conclusion had literally punched her between the eyes.

She had never stood a chance, and now she had lost.

When she came out of her funk, she realized three things at once: she was cold, she was wet, and she was still breathing. The first two forced her to act, the latter forced her decision, and though it was disconcerting how easy it turned out to be, she managed to start her new life even sooner than Boyd did.

The new life...and here she was, in the back seat of Boyd's car, only months later, and the elephant that had always been in the room with them was bigger than ever. Next to her she could see Stella watching her closely, concern clearly written on her face and she gave her a quick smile to reassure her.

"Don't worry about it, Stella," Boyd fell in calmly, following the exchange in the rear-view mirror, "Healy is looking for every opening to annoy us and that the girl went to him only confirms your hunch."

Stella nodded carefully, but kept her eyes trained on Grace. The older woman nodded as well, but didn't look as convinced as Boyd was. Something was off with her, but Stella had no intention of forcing the question.

"We need his cooperation, though," Tim, who sat in the passenger seat, said quietly. "If he denies us access to the pupils we won't be able to gather information. We need the statements of the kids to narrow the circle of suspects down."

"We are all aware of it, Mr. McKinsey," Boyd snapped.

Tim started at the sharp tone, but said nothing. Grace frowned at the harshness that was suddenly in the car and shook her head. How had she dealt with this behaviour, this atmosphere for years? "If he doesn't cooperate, we'll go to Hutchinson and let him deal with it," she ground out, her earlier personal unease tightening into irritation with Boyd.

"Since Hutchinson is so eager to get down on his knees for you these days, Grace, I'm sure you can sweet talk him into just about anything," Boyd remarked off-handedly, and the moment the last word came out, he knew that it was a mistake.

Somebody in the car gasped, though he didn't know who it was. All Boyd could focus on was the look on Grace's face. It was the same as right after she had slapped him, the same she had when he told her that nothing kept him in London.

Her voice was like a slap too. "Stop the car, Boyd! Now!"

"Why?" he asked, despite the uneasy feeling he had about the question.

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, fury radiating off of her in stormy waves. "Stop the car!" Each word was carefully enunciated as if she had to force them not to come out in deafening screams.

Swallowing, Boyd indicated and stopped the car at the curb.

The vehicle had barely stopped when Grace yanked off the belt and pushed the door open. Ridiculously, Boyd was glad that she couldn't smash it into any object on the sidewalk. Once outside, she slammed it closed so strongly that the sound reverberated through the small space like a shot. Without a glance back, Grace marched off, pedestrians carefully sidestepping her.

Within seconds, she disappeared within the throngs of people on the busy street.

* * *

 

"What's the matter? Where's Grace?" Eve asked as the team trickled dejectedly into their room.

Boyd headed straight for a wall, his face a cloud of thunder, and it was obvious that he was desperately searching for something to kick.

"Gone for a walk," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Ah." It was a non-committal reaction as Eve looked at the other officers and Tim for more information.

"Don't you lot have any bloody thing to do here?" Boyd suddenly yelled, the vein in his temple thick and protruding. He instinctively moved for the next chair to throw it, kick it, hit something with it, but Tim and Spence went at once, blocking his way.

Breathing heavily, Boyd stood and stared daggers at the two younger men. They didn't budge.

"I'm going to get food," he announced and marched out of the room. The door rattled in its hinges at the force he used.

* * *

 

"They need to have it out or they'll end up killing each other." Eve and Tim stood whispering by the coffee maker as they produced one for each person in the room.

"The way they are acting around each other is endangering the case." Tim had drawn his own conclusions. The last 24 hours had been more than a roller coaster ride for everybody and he was beginning to think that he didn't know his boss at all.

"Welcome to the Cold Case Unit, the angriest place on Earth," Spencer drawled, his annoyance clear. He was worried too, but this was getting them nowhere. Boyd would never change and Grace had changed. Those were the - painful - facts. They had no choice but to get through this case, but once it was over, Grace would leave again and he would make sure his and Boyd's paths separated as well.

* * *

 

It was nearly an hour later when Grace finally showed up again, slipping quietly into the room. Still, the quiet chatter that had been present before ceased, and everybody squirmed a little in their seats.

Grace went to the table and sat down with a sigh. It took her a minute to collect herself, but then she took a deep breath and looked at each of her co-workers individually. "I apologize for my temper earlier. None of you deserves to be on the receiving end of it, especially since none of you is at fault for me having to work this case, which I don't want to do to begin with. I'm still not happy and it annoys me greatly how we are pushed, pulled and cajoled at every turn. But...." Once again she looked at each person individually, "we have to solve the case, because the alternative is unthinkable...." She gave them a wan smile. "So...anything?"

Kazuko gave her a small smile. "It's not much but I'm making progress with the IP-tracking. I think I'm only about three or four knots away from the computer of 'fbuckity.'"

"And where are you at the moment?"

"Bangkok."

The tension rose once again as Grace drew in a deep breath and held it. The others swallowed as well. Passing a hand over her face, Grace shook her head before letting out an exhausted guffaw. Within seconds the others chuckled tiredly as well.

Coffees were passed around, as everybody took just a moment of rest. Nobody said a thing, taking the moments as long as they lasted. Of course, it was over soon, as the door opened and the Commissioner marched in. His face was a picture of displeasure, making it clear that this time he wouldn't defer to Grace.

Stemming his fists on the table, Hutchinson angrily stared the team down. "I would very much like to know how much more clear I have to be so that you all understand just how delicate your case is! You have two well-known psychologists in your team, you all went through psychology training and yet you are incapable of carrying out simple interviews!"

"Bu...." Before anybody could insert a word of defence, Hutchinson continued. "I'm tired of having to placate Mr. Healy every few hours, because you can't muster even the minimal amount of politeness and tact. All of you!"

"Commissioner...," Boyd spoke up, instinctively putting himself in protective mode. He knew his own temper, knew that Grace had pushed the envelope too, but the rest of the team didn't deserve this dressing down.

"No Boyd," Grace interrupted. "Leave it. It's...."

"Yes, Dr. Foley, it is your problem, but we'll have our discussion later! DSI Boyd knows very well what this is about and I'd like to have a private word with him presently."

The younger officers automatically shuffled to get up but remained just inside the door. Grace, however, remained seated, her arms crossed and staring defiantly at the Commissioner.

"Mr. Healy's 'displeasure'," she snarled the word and narrowed her eyes, "is nothing but his attempt to obstruct our investigation. We asked permission to question the pupils, which was granted...."

"Reluctantly...."

"Because Healy is so busy not moving his square arse that he can't even be bothered by the fact that his school might become a massive crime scene within days!"

"That's enough, Boyd!" Hutchinson yelled and drew up to his full height. The physical presence didn't cow Boyd much, but there was something in the Commissioner's stance that didn't look good and he carefully relaxed his own posture. "I warned you, DSI Boyd! One step out of line and you'll have your demotion faster than you can blink. And believe me, you are not getting back to DSI after that!"

"Is that a threat?"

"It's my last warning, Boyd! If I hear one more word about you mistreating a suspect or a witness or even somebody only walking by your interview, you'll be demoted, am I making myself clear?"

A tense silence filled the room as they all took in the scene with a bated breath.

"Crystal clear," Boyd ground out.

"Good." Hutchinson stared him down for a moment, then took a relaxing breath. "I explained to Mr. Healy that the questionings are necessary and despite his misgivings, he accepted the continuation of the interviews." Taking a look at the younger officers, he shook his head. "However, Mr. Healy insists on only the younger officers conducting the interviews."

"But...."

"I consider it a good idea if DSI Boyd stays away from Mr. Healy, Dr. Foley. I think it will reduce the danger considerably." Hutchinson gave her a winning smile

Grace nodded, very reluctantly.

"Pardon?" It was Stella who couldn't keep the question in. "What danger?"

The Commissioner ignored her, his eyes and his smile still trained on Grace. After a moment, when he obviously found in her expression what he had been looking for, Hutchinson turned to Boyd. "Your last chance, DSI Boyd. If you bungle it up, not even Dr. Foley's sacrifice will keep you from being thrown out of the force for good."


	9. Chapter 9

In the wake of the Commissioner's departure, the atmosphere in the room had been like a disaster area immediately after disaster had struck. They all moved in almost robotic fashion, their eyes dulled by shock. They only spoke the minimum of necessary words and tried to be somehow not there.

Grace didn't look at Boyd, Boyd didn't look at Grace, and everybody else tried not to look at either of them. Naturally, this had been impossible to keep up for an extended time, but they made the effort anyway.

They all tried to keep their tempers in check, though it was becoming harder and harder with every hour. The interviews led to nothing, no more information was gathered as pupils and staff at St. Anthony's had obviously been instructed to say as little as possible.

The younger team members tried to vent their frustrations away from the office, anything to make it easier to deal. They weren't very successful.

In a way, they all pitied Boyd, who they could see was struggling to keep himself together. So far it was working, but it wasn't lost on them that his patience and endurance were wearing thin.

He and Grace were walking on eggshells around each other, carefully avoiding any surplus word. They had not talked to each other, didn't even look at each other, if possible, but every time they accidentally touched, it was like somebody had lit a match in a powder keg. The explosion was only a question of time.

The only thing that had so far avoided major tantrums were the two additional offices they'd been given. It had given Kazuko some space, as she was working feverishly to track the actual IP-addresses and gather additional information on the weapons the boys planned on using. She was the only one Grace made an effort to calm down. It didn't go unnoticed by the other team members, and definitely didn't improve the atmosphere.

It was late afternoon, shortly before the interviewers were due to return with hopefully more results from their interviews, but Boyd wasn't optimistic. It was as if they were running into walls on all sides. The interviews produced nothing, nothing that could lead them towards the identity of the chatters or the reasons why they were actually threatening the school. The chats produced no further hints either, as if the boys had tired of their game for the moment. They still followed the chats, participated even, but it was leading nowhere. Checks of the local markets for ammunition had proven fruitless as well, though the people over at Firearms Licensing had gratefully accepted the information gathered.

All this grated on his nerves, but it wasn't the only problem. Boyd knew, better than anybody else, that he didn't do well in personal interaction. If anything, his relationship with Grace proved it. Any other man - person, for that matter - would have gone to her and talked to her about the sacrifice she was making to keep him in the force. Any other person would have gone and asked why she had disappeared. Any other person would have figured out why.

But he was Peter Boyd, he didn't ask and Grace didn't volunteer the information. Instead, she had gone out to dinner with Hutchinson last night and for a coffee break today. Hutchinson, it seemed, now spent more time in the office Grace retreated to than doing his job. It galled Boyd how the man was constantly fawning over Grace, how she let him, while he, Boyd, didn't even rank as high as the fly on the wall.

At least it wasn't that Bartlett guy. Since having been prohibited to enter these parts of the building, the man had been making a nuisance of himself on the phone. It was usually Tim who tried to stave his boss off, especially since Grace had not returned to her hotel room, staying at her daughter's place instead, but it was quickly coming to the point where she would have to deal with her boss in person.

In earlier times, Boyd would have gone and told the man to bugger off, but now this was probably not appreciated. Grace and he weren't on speaking terms and jumping into her life like the proverbial bull would only alienate her further.

All he could do was sit back and watch. He hated that with a passion. Sitting in one office while she sat in the other. Not being able to phone her just for the hell of it. Sitting next to her during team meetings and almost being able to touch the wall between them. It had been so comfortable between them before, even at their lowest.

"It's a bloody waste of time!" From outside Stella's voice clearly showed her frustration. "They won't say anything, not even let anything slip." She flopped into a desk chair with a sigh.

Boyd marched out of his office with narrowed eyes. The look he gave the junior officers demanded an exhaustive explanation without further delay.

"Neither pupils nor staff are saying anything and Healy announced that he'll re-think his permission for the interviews."

"Why?"

"He says there have been complaints from parents about our interviews. We're disturbing the peace of the school and bother the children." Spencer's words were full of sarcasm.

"Did you talk to Mr. Healy personally? Tried to convince him?" Grace asked, leaning against the frame of her office door. Though her question was directed at the entire junior team, her gaze was fixed on Eve.

"Yes. He wouldn't budge," Eve replied, holding the profiler's eyes.

"Nothing then?" Boyd made an effort to sound calm, though inside he was anything but.

"Stella is right, it is a waste of time, boss," Tim addressed Grace, who was rubbing a hand over her eyes in an attempt to stave off her weariness. "We are running into a wall of silence. I think the interview-route is closed to us at the moment, unless we have something new to use."

She nodded already thinking on a method to continue.

"Maybe we should stop the interviews, for a few days at least," Stella suggested. "If we go on, our men could feel bothered."

Boyd shook his head as he felt an idea emerging. "Why don't we slip into the chat that the police is investigating? We don't just sit back and wait. If we have a suspect in here who we think is holding back, we push until they talk." Spence threw a speculative glance at Boyd and then nodded. "Might be the kick forward we need."

Tim shook his head, unconvinced, and Grace looked uncertain as well. "With a suspect in the interview room, we look them in the face. Here we...."

Her mobile ringing interrupted her sentence. Checking the caller id, she groaned, "Oh, not now!"

"Bartlett?" Tim asked sympathetically, while Eve and Stella threw Grace a worried glance. Grace nodded and heaved a sigh.

"You'll have to talk to him at some point. He's mad about you ignoring his very polite offer of generosity and men like him...."

She sighed again. "Yes, men like him.... You go on," she ordered tiredly, "and I'll placate the fountain of charity."

As she closed the door behind her, the others rolled their eyes. Only Boyd couldn't muster any sympathetic levity. Boss or no boss, that guy was bothering Grace when she didn't need it and he wouldn't stand back and look on. As soon as they got out of here tonight, he'd go and have a little chat with Mr. Jeremy Bartlett.

"Boyd? You still with us?" Eve asked, noting Boyd's absence of mind and his focus of vision.

He started, but recovered quickly. "Yeah." Turning, he gave the others a thin smile. "So, what do you think?"

Colin, Stella and Spence nodded eagerly, hopeful that there might be at least _some_ development. Having nothing to go on whatsoever, after the acquisition of arms had been a dead end too, they were eager for any kind of development.

"So, we're agreed?" Boyd pushed further, a small smile creeping up on his face.

"I'm not sure," Eve said and Tim nodded in agreement.

"Come on, what can really go wrong? Those guys are phantoms. We all know we've got nothing to grasp them. Nothing for this case, what could we lose?"

"Time," Kazuko threw in, "and they could identify our account as police and stop talking altogether. The chat is our only link at the moment."

"Yeah, but the way we are going now, time is running out on us anyway. It is a risk, but if we play it right, those boys might lose their cool and slip." The longer she thought about it, the more merit Stella saw in the idea. "And you said you'd need a few more days to locate them."

"Yeah," Kazuko nodded in defeat.

"Okay," Boyd pushed forward, "lets do this democratically." Seeing a few smirks, he shrugged somewhat sheepishly. "All those in favour, raise their hands."

Four hands went up immediately, a fifth followed. A sixth came even more hesitantly as Eve muttered, "I don't see any other way out, but I don't like it. Not really."

"McKinsey?" Turning towards the younger man, Boyd felt himself calming down for the first time in days. Taking charge felt good. Really good.

Tim rubbed his hand over his face, uneasy and not at all happy. "I don't like it, the risk is high.... If this goes wrong, it will be on our head to have given them the final push." He hesitated for a moment longer, his face showing the fight he was waging in his mind. "Okay. It's at least worth a try to turn those phantoms into something real."

"Good. Good!" Boyd rubbed his hands, especially seeing the slight smiles on the younger officers faces. "McKinsey, write out how we best drop the information into the chat. It needs to be carefully worded."

"A proof of trust, one is pleased, DSI Boyd," Tim drawled quietly, the remaining unease bringing out his sarcasm, and then started when Boyd suddenly stood next to him. The words were quietly muttered and afterwards, Tim wasn't entirely sure whether they had been a compliment or a warning.

"Grace trusts you. And I trust her judgement."

* * *

 

She was quickly coming to the conclusion that joining Bartlett's team, though her only option at the time, had been a mistake. While she had just managed to placate him, the price for it was running a little too high in Grace's opinion. She had calmed down Commissioner Hutchinson by using her feminine wiles and she would have to resort to them to mollify Bartlett too.

Snorting slightly, Grace leaned back in her office chair. If anybody had told her a few days ago that she'd depend on her womanly charms, and be so successful with them, she'd have laughed in their faces. Unfortunately, this success came at a price, and seeing that she would have to deal with at least two other men tonight as well, she wasn't entirely sure she could manage.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace the office provided her. Through the half open blinds she had just seen her team sit around the table and brainstorm, for once peaceful and relaxed. Boyd had probably pulled his weight, so they would deliberately drop hints of their investigation into the chat.

Grace wasn't sure how she felt about that, her initial misgivings weren't gone. They'd have to tread extremely carefully and she wasn't sure if action was the wisest thing to do at the moment. The case was not going well, and something that had been nagging at the back of her mind became more and more pronounced as time went on.

It was still quiet in the meeting room and Grace turned her head just a little to look them over. She was wondering whom they'd elect to tell her the news; no, actually, she wasn't wondering. He was looking for a chance to talk to her and he would come in and do so. From her vantage point, she could see his profile, recognised the focus and concentration on his face.

She really was no further in figuring him out.

Her mobile phone rang again and she picked up without looking at the caller-id. "Hello?"

_"So, you do actually answer your phone."_

Grace closed her eyes and took a deep breath, hoping that her caller couldn't hear it. "It's been very busy these last days. The case is at a crucial stage...."

_"But apparently you have time to go out to fancy dinners."_

"Pardon?" The accusation startled her, snapping her eyes and her mind into focus. She bristled at the tone he took, but before she could continue he spoke again.

_"Look, I don't want to talk about it. You said you'd call me and you didn't."_

"Sorry?" Her voice was growing incredulous.

_"No, Grace, I don't need excuses. If you don't want to talk to me, fine. But admit it at least and don't leave me hanging like some idiot teenager with a crush waiting for the girl to call."_

Rubbing her eyes with her hand, Grace shook her head and sighed. "Carl...."

_"No, Grace, either you want or you don't. And I don't think you want. Or you don't know what you want."_

"I'm sorry," she apologized quietly, though she wasn't sure for what.

The man on the other end calmed down a little, his voice becoming less angry. _"When you know what you want, give me a call, okay?"_ He hung up.

Grace sat there, staring at her phone, and for a moment contemplated smashing it against a wall. If she could walk out of this building and be unreachable until further notice, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

But it wasn't to be, as there was a knock on the door and Boyd walked in. Seeing her expression and her haphazardly thrown phone, he carefully asked, "Bartlett or Hutchinson?"

"Neither, but not any better."

Boyd tensed, guessing that it had been the mysterious man from the other day. "You wanna talk about it?" he ventured carefully, and seeing her eyebrow arching almost laughed about how ridiculous this sounded from him to her. There was a twitch in the corner of her mouth and for the first time today the tension seemed to recede from her body.

He sat down in the other desk chair and look at her for a moment. "We need to talk, Grace. Really talk."

Their eyes connected for a moment, providing a piece of the old comfort, and it was as if the last months hadn't happened.

"Yeah, Peter, maybe." It wasn't lost on him that she had used his given name, clearly separating personal and professional. "I guess you want to tell me that you got your way. We let our two friends know that they are investigated by the police."

He nodded. "McKinsey is writing up the text at the moment. He's not bad."

She smirked slightly. "I know."

A noise in the other room broke the tranquil atmosphere. As they looked over into the other office, they could discern heavily frustrated faces and from the looks of it, either Spencer, Colin or Stella were close to throwing something.

Rushing out of the room, Boyd stopped and stood back for a moment as Grace brushed past him, so close that he could smell the last hint of her perfume. In a moment like this, how idiotic....

His second of personal indulgence and berating was stopped short, though, as he walked into the room and found Grace cursing quietly, but continuously under her breath. Seeing the question in the chatroom window, he couldn't help but join.

"Do they know it's us?" Tim finally asked the obvious question.

The others shrugged, still staring at the line.

_"So, who of you fuckers is police, huh?"_


	10. Chapter 10

The sky was grey and foggy, but for the people standing in the car park it was like a balm on frazzled nerves. The cold humidity helped to cool them down, but even more appreciated was the silence. At this time of the night, even the Met car park was hushed.

Leaning against Spencer's car, Eve and Colin held cigarettes between their fingers, trying to stave off their exhaustion with nicotine. Their half-empty cardboard cups of coffee stood at their feet. The other members of the team leaned against the cars around, Kazuko and Stella supporting each other. It looked a little funny, since Kazuko was a good head shorter than Stella, but who asked at this time of the day and after the night they had had.

From his vantage point, half-sitting on a slab of concrete, Tim observed his team-mates. They were probably as tired as he felt, weary from the long hours in the meeting room while he and Grace had tried to run diversions and soothe 'fbuckity.' Oddly enough, "srllfj" had left early.

It had taken them almost until two in the morning to calm the boy down. Tense situations during which their target had tried to leave in a huff had been numerous. By the time he had logged out, the young man had seemed to be strangely calm and content, which didn't do much for their state of nerves.

If they had gone down the wrong road with him, then today would be a day of bloodshed. The thought made Tim feel years older than he actually was, twenty at least. Eyeing the police officers, he wondered how they did it. Despite their weariness and the worry he knew was there, they seemed to be somewhat detached from the proceedings.

Strangest, though, had been, and still was, how Grace and Boyd were acting. To Tim it seemed as if they both had actually thrived on the strain of the night. The more tense the situation had become, the calmer Grace had been. Boyd had been hovering, never more than a step away, while everybody else had steered clear.

Even now, leaning against another car, they were standing close, an inseparable unit. They weren't touching, not looking at each other, and yet there was unity about them that Tim hadn't expected to see at any point.

"You all did good tonight." Grace broke the silence, a tired smile on her face.

"We didn't do much," Spencer demurred. "We just stood around and prayed that you'd find the right words." Smiling broadly, he stepped closer and kissed Grace's cheek. "You did good, Grace. Just like old times."

Turning to Boyd, he shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, boss."

Boyd rolled his eyes, but then chuckled good-naturedly. "She's the boss this time." He nodded towards Grace. "I'll let her know."

"Funny," Grace threw in, a mock sigh following. "If we prevented the worst tonight, it will be due to all of us working together." Going back on topic, she gave each of the others an encouraging smile. "I think for the moment we are safe enough to actually go and catch a few winks of sleep. All of us."

"You don't wanna pull an all-nighter and go to the deli to fill yourself up with liquid caffeine and high-calorie snack food?" Eve teased.

Chuckling, Grace shook her head. "That's you, Eve. You're projecting."

"We've gotta be back before 9, though, go by the school, if possible," Tim suggested. "Just to see if things are calm there too."

"I can do that," Stella volunteered.

"Yeah, me too," Colin agreed. Over the last days he had lost a lot of his cockiness, feeling that if he wanted to play up, he'd be pitched against people in another league. Incidentally, since then it seemed as if his team mates treated him with a lot less distance.

"Good."

"Good."

As tired as they all were, Grace and Boyd speaking up in unison sounded funny, making them all chuckle.

Saying their good nights, they all moved towards their respective cars, Tim going with Spence who'd drop him off at the hotel.

Grace started to move towards Eve, but Boyd's quiet voice stopped her. "Your daughter's flat is on my way, you know. I'll give you a lift."

She hesitated, her expression showing uncertainty at the time they would spend alone together in the confines of a car, but then smiled crookedly. "Alright. Thanks."

* * *

 

They were silent for most of the ride, down to a few words of direction from her side, even though he didn't need them. He let her give them mainly because he wanted to listen to her voice. However, he had put a lid on talk about the case which narrowed the options down considerably. He didn't want to talk business, but he also didn't want to talk about their 'relationship' as it was, worried that they'd end up shouting at each other, or worse, in an awkward, strained silence. It might not be typical of him to be so worried about interaction, but after the last hours, he wanted to hold on to the strangely comforting equilibrium they had achieved while working under pressure.

For her part, Grace leaned back against the head rest and closed her eyes, trying to block out as much of the world as possible. Boyd knew the way to her daughter's place; it didn't surprise her, just that he had begun to ask. She could feel his presence next to her almost as a sensory experience, more strongly than she could hear him breathe or smell his personal scent. He was there and she was so oddly aware of it that she was glad to sit. After the last few hours she didn't have the strength to hold anything up or pretend anything, and she was glad that he didn't put pressure on her to do anything of the sort.

It was strange, but over the last few hours he had been the only one not to demand anything from her or push her in any direction, which was somewhat out of normalcy to begin with. Instead, he had been a silent provider of subtle strength while she called on every ounce of professional ability to calm the young man in the chat; and even before that he had provided surprisingly unobtrusive comfort.

This was not the Boyd she was used to on a general basis; it was the Boyd who had gotten her into the emotional mess from which she had run months ago. Grace tensed and quickly pushed the thought aside. She didn't want to deal with it now. Their truce was precarious at best and she didn't need to complicate it.

At least for a while she wanted to pretend that this current atmosphere was the norm between them and that there was no undercurrent. No more than a white lie, but she felt she deserved it.

"If you fall asleep now, I'll have to wake you in less than five minutes or I'll have to carry you upstairs." He sounded quietly amused and even without opening her eyes, Grace knew that he was smiling crookedly at her.

She knew that smile and forced her eyes closed. Just remembering it had an armada of butterflies doing flight lessons in her stomach; the actual view would be a full disaster. "You wouldn't carry me. It would tarnish your reputation." The shot back came without thought, just an instinctive opening of her mouth and firing back.

"Not if I slung you over my shoulder like...."

"Don't even think about saying it, Boyd."

He chuckled quietly. "I'd be a gentleman, of course."

She jumped, suddenly feeling his hand on her leg. Her eyes flying open, she could see that it was no more than a reassuring gesture, but the sensory experience from earlier had just exploded into touch and she wasn't prepared for the heat that rushed through her body.

As they steered around the final corner, which forced him to remove his hand, her breath of relief was an almost audible sigh and for a moment she didn't know whether it was really relief or something entirely different.

"We are here," he announced and turned to her with a smile. "Do you need me to carry you upstairs or do you think you'll manage?"

The look on her face startled him. She looked like a deer in the headlights, her face alternately pale and flushed, her eyes wide. "Grace? Are you okay?" he asked, a hand instinctively going up to cup her cheek. She started again, but shivered at the same time.

"Hmm?" Her answering sound was thin, no more than a startled hum.

On instinct, Boyd brushed his thumb over her cheek in a soothing gesture. Smiling gently, he leaned forward trying to bring her to focus on him. "Okay?" he asked again.

Grace's answer was once again a hum.

It made him smile to see her like this, flushed and wide-eyed. She looked innocent and vulnerable, her skin felt soft and warm under his thumb, and without giving any thought to anything, he leaned over the middle console and kissed her.

* * *

 

By the time Eve arrived, Grace had already worn a trench into the linoleum with her pacing. It was also her third mug of coffee in less than thirty minutes. She drank it to do something, not because she needed it. She was fully awake, despite having caught only seconds of restless dozing.

Eve, though barely on full power herself, took one look at her and pried the mug from her hands. "I guess I should have insisted on driving you home last night."

Grace fell into a chair somewhat clumsily and groaned while hiding her face in her hands. "He's going to be unmitigated hell today and it's all my fault."

Taking the next chair, Eve pulled her hands away. "What happened? Did you argue?"

Grace shook her head.

"Grace, please, we are too old for guessing games! What happened? Did Boyd...?"

Looking up with a sigh, Grace's face contorted into a pained grimace. "I bungled it up completely." The two women looked at each other for a long minute, one with an expression of sympathy, the other pained with self-reproach. "And I don't think it was just last night with Boyd."

Before Eve could reply anything, the profiler had left her chair to resume her pacing, but she didn't get very far, stopping dead in her tracks.

Behind Kazuko and Spencer, Boyd walked in and if Eve remembered anything about her former colleague, then he was desperately trying to keep his emotions under a lid. His face showed nothing.

Spencer's eye roll supported the thought as he took his seat and picked up a few files right away, while Kazuko rushed towards the computer to install another search programme. Their "Good Mornings" remained unanswered.

Boyd didn't give anybody a look, but went straight for the other office, closing the door firmly.

* * *

 

The morning dragged on painfully slow. Once the rest of the team had arrived, they had all taken to sitting around the table and throwing around theories. There was nothing else they could do.

As of this morning, the board of governors of St. Anthony's had put a stop to further interviews. Mr. Healy had taken a lot of pleasure in informing them about the fact.

Neither Grace nor Eve were surprised by the development. The nagging feeling they both had shared over the last few days grew stronger.

The chats were quiet for the moment, giving further proof that their targets were indeed still at school. Except Kazuko who was still trying to trace the computers, none of them had anything to do.

Several times furtive glances were sent in Boyd's direction. Since his arrival he hadn't moved from the other office, purportedly reading, but somehow they all doubted it. Nobody had informed him of the situation, but they didn't doubt that he was already aware of it. An explosion of his bad temper was imminent.

As he finally got up and walked over, everybody held their breaths. Boyd's voice sounded deceptively calm when he asked, "Did you make any progress, Kazuko?"

The young woman shook her head. "I still have at least one knot to go." Her voice became thinner with every word. "Possibly two."

Boyd took a deep breath, studiously avoiding to look any person in the face. "Interviews have been cut off as well."

"Yes, sir," Stella answered timidly.

"I see." The comment came short and flat, and without needing to look, all occupants of the room knew that this was the beginning.

Boyd turned towards Grace who had had to steel herself not to flinch as soon as she felt his eyes on her. She knew that his thoughts and emotions had churned the entire night, just like hers. She knew that her behaviour had hurt him, though how deeply she wasn't sure. He wanted to have it out with her - here and now - that much was obvious. Their actual problem might not be the topic, but they would have the fight that had been inevitable from the beginning.

His expression was as flat as his voice when he looked at her. "What do we do now, boss?" The last word was as close to a sneer as it got without being one. It made the younger team members grimace.

Grace looked Boyd in the eye, squaring her shoulders, but it was the only outward reaction.

"No brilliant psychological insight?"

"I do have a few, but they will hardly make a difference at the moment."

"We just wait and see what happens? Have that arsehole Healy keep us away while somebody throws a bomb into his school for which he will blame us?"

"For the moment...."

Everybody in the room could see that Boyd was building up to something that would explode any second.

"We just sit here and do nothing."

"Boyd...."

He didn't hear the attempts to calm him. "That's just peachy! My professional future is on the line and we just wait and hope for some divine intervention that gives us anything to go by. Is that your grand plan, Grace?"

"Not...."

"No, it isn't," he scoffed, "because you don't have a plan. You never had one, just hoped to swim along, charm a few half-wits high up the food chain, and hoped it would all just solve itself." He closed the distance to the chair she still sat in, unmoving, using his height to tower over her, cow her if possible. "We are going nowhere, Grace," he spat out. "This case goes nowhere, because your touchy-feely-talk-approach isn't working. We've got nothing to show! If something happens in that damned school, it will be because you didn't do the job you should have done, because ...."

"That's not true and you know it!" They were the first words Grace managed to get out, choked as they were. "I've been...."

"Bollocks, Grace! You played pretend with us, with the Commissioner, with Healy...and everybody else. You never had an idea how to run this investigation!"

Shooting out of her chair, Grace stood almost toe to toe with Boyd, their bodies nearly touching. It was a completely different thing this time, though, Tim observed. Grace was almost deathly pale, her hands clenched in fists, while Boyd stared her down, his expression harsh.

"You thought that if you just threw around enough psychology-crap, we would follow like some meek, little sheep, not question what you do and if it works. High and mighty psychology over us lowlife coppers." Taking a breath, he leaned forward even more so that their noses were almost touching. "It's not working, for none of us. The case is dead, we all know it! You are the only one who didn't get it yet. But how could you, flittering from one date to the next...?"

"That's...." She tore her eyes away from his, looking at the younger team members, needing some sort of answer.

They all swallowed, avoiding her gaze embarrassedly. She couldn't read what it meant, couldn't discern what they didn't say out loud.

"They agree with me, they just didn't dare to say anything against the impeccable reputation of the great psychologist." Boyd was on a roll. He could almost feel how his words, his anger was rushing ahead of him, pulling him along. Every blow he delivered, he felt, could almost see, as it impacted with her. The rush was unbelievable.

"Hutchinson put you in charge here, but it was a mistake. Calling you in was a mistake. If we had done it the police way, we'd have gotten results. Your damn psychology got us nowhere!" He could see her swallow, his anger beginning to feel raw even to him. "If that kid starts shooting in that school, it will be on you. You failed!...And if that happens, it won't help you that you shag Hutchinson, or Bartlett or whoever it is...."

For a second there was a deafening silence in the room.

And then it was broken by a sound that seemed like a gunshot, but was a harsh and resounding slap.

Boyd's head whipped around with the impact of Grace's hand. She was a small woman, but her body lurched with the strength she had put into the strike.

Silence reigned again, only broken by heavy breathing.

From her vantage point, Eve could see both their faces, and the sight made tears rise in her throat.

The door slammed once as Grace fled from the room, and a second time, when Boyd marched out.


	11. Chapter 11

"It's not like you to hide out in the toilet." Eve leant against the wall of the ladies room and watched the older woman, who was slumped against the wall of a stall and staring into the distance.

Grace grimaced. "I'm doing a lot of things that aren't like me at the moment." Looking Eve directly in the eye, she continued, "Got a smoke for me?"

"You gave up nicotine decades ago. Booze could help, but I don't have it either."

"Pity." Grace shook her head. "Only prolongs the inevitable, though."

Pushing herself away from the stalls, she went over to the sinks to splash cool water onto her wrists and face. A quick check in the mirror showed that it didn't really help. She looked like death, waxen complexion, dead eyes, hair lanky, and her face full of tension lines. Not a pretty sight.

"Is he still there?" she asked after a minute of unpleasant self-perusal.

Eve shook her head, her expression compassionate. "He marched out a few moments after you."

Though Boyd had been far out of line, especially with his personal attacks, Eve felt for him. Of course, he shouldn't have said those things, all but calling Grace.... Eve shook her head. She'd heard it once, she didnt really want to relive the memory. Boyd didn't deal well without Grace and he didn't deal well with those men who were fluttering around her. Whatever had happened last night ran deep and had been hurtful, triggering today's explosion.

It was a painful thing to watch how Grace and Boyd hurt each other, always had been. The connection between them ran deep, which was why they could cut each other so profoundly. It had always badly affected the atmosphere in the team. Unfortunately, only the two of them could resolve their issues; but Boyd was still not getting the problem and Grace was no longer building him bridges.

"He wasn't lying, you know." Grace sounded bone-tired. "About my leadership in the case. I messed it up."

"Not really."

"Eve, you don't need to lie to spare my feelings."

The scientist sighed. "You didn't really make a mistake...."

"But?"

"The case isn't going anywhere.... And it isn't because we were told how to go about it from the very beginning."

"We didn't conduct a proper, by-the-book investigation, which we should have. I didn't think of the basic rules for a police investigation, because I was so busy with all these men...." Her voice and her expression sarcastic, Grace heaved a sigh. If it would help, she'd start pacing.

"You kept them off our backs. Especially Boyd's back and part of his problem is that he knows it," Eve insisted. It was indeed part of the problem. Boyd in his continuing ignorance didn't hear what was screaming him in the face. "And I think you were working ahead, nonetheless. You outlined a profile for Healy, am I right?"

With her face covered by her hands, the profiler nodded. "Yeah. He rubbed me the wrong way, I guess. I thought something was off. Instinct, Boyd calls it."

Smiling, Eve stepped closer and gently rubbed the older woman's shoulder. There were times when even Grace needed reassurance and just a wee bit of praise, and she rarely received it. It would go a long way for the rest of the investigation.

"Why don't we go back to the team, take your profiles and start working anew with what we really have?"

With a grateful smile, Grace nodded and followed Eve out.

* * *

 

It was raining, not that it was unusual, but he had not picked up his mac or taken an umbrella and therefore he was slowly but surely getting wet. For the moment, he didn't even realize it, his thoughts churning and his stomach performing wild turns of anger.

Even now, Boyd could feel the pull of his own heated words, the rush of spewing them at somebody. Dressing down somebody had something liberating at times, it took the pressure off. Only it hadn't worked and it hadn't been just anybody.

It was Grace; and he had thrown every piece of venom at her that he could. Of course, there was a basis to his accusations. They were getting nowhere with the case and it frustrated them all greatly. But the layer of facts was thin at best and non-existent in reality. It wasn't even a real fight, because he didn't give her the chance to say anything in her defence.

All Boyd had wanted to do with his tirade was hurt Grace. Seeing all colour drain from her already pale face had spurned him on, seeing her frame shake given him some perverted kind of satisfaction. The slap she dealt him had done nothing to stop the anger. He still wanted to hurt her, in a way, make her pay for the pain of last night.

Why had she done it? Why led him on like that and then...?

_The flush on her cheeks was most becoming, combined with the wonder in her wide eyes, it made her look innocent and youthful at the same time. Despite the gruelling cases, the gore, the violence she had seen, the destroyed lives she had treated, she could still look like a child seeing its first fireworks._

_His index finger held her jaw while his thumb brushed over her flushed cheek. He skin was soft, heated through the flush. Age had given her skin lines and wrinkles, erasing the total smoothness and elasticity those cosmetics ads promised, but he found even that appealing. It was her, made her an alluring contradiction._

_The darkness was broken by streetlamps and a few late car lights, throwing shadows over them. It made her eyes sparkle in the lights._

_He didn't know why, but leaning over and kissing her was the most natural thing in the world._

_As his mouth touched hers, the softness of her lips took his breath away. It wasn't a passionate kiss, merely a touch of lips to lips, gentle and feathery, but it was like a flame had touched the fuse. This first touch followed a second, and a third, and a fourth. Still lips to lips, but then he pulled her lower lip between his and nibbled, went back for another, and for more. There was a moan resounding in the car, but he didn't know whose it was, didn't care. And then his tongue met hers and this time it was_ he _who moaned._

_She tasted incredible, he thought, sweet and tangy, like fire and ice and everything in between. His hands moved without thought and without hesitation, beginning to map a path from her face over her neck and shoulders to her breasts. Touching her like this was natural, like an organic thing to do. Touching her was also highly addictive._

_Every touch made him crave another one, and she all but melted into his hands. Her fingers weren't idle either, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, her other hand grazing lightly over his beard. It gave a tingling sound like electricity crackling. Their tongues dancing, they moaned, breathing heavily._

_Breaths and hums and moans wove together like a symphony of sounds, the only ones apart from the blood roaring in his ears._

_With one hand he cupped her breast, feeling the weight, feeling her arousal in the hardening of her nipple against his palm. It provoked an instant reaction in him, his erection growing as well, and his other hand went to the back of her neck, crushing her mouth to his to deepen their kiss._

_"Grace...," he moaned into her mouth, his hands working more feverishly, despite the obstacle between them. Damn, what wouldn't he give for a bed now, or any flat surface. "Jesus, Grace! You're so...."_

_She pulled away, suddenly, once again staring at him wide-eyed and flushed. Even in the darkness, he could see that the flush had spread down the fairly deep cleavage of her shirt. The thought that this was due to their kisses, to his touches drove his arousal up further and with a groan of "God, Grace!" he pulled her in for another crushing kiss._

_For moments or minutes, there was nothing but the feel of her mouth against his, her body under his hands and the rush of arousal and desire._

_Suddenly, however, Grace pushed him away, almost shrinking from his touch. Breathing heavily, her entire body shook. She held a hand up to keep him away, as she shook her head and whispered hoarsely, "Don't do this to me, Boyd."_

* * *

 

When Grace entered the meeting room again, she felt embarrassment creep up hotly. It had been years since she had entered any professional situation with such dread, including the moments during the Greene-case.

Spence, Tim and Colin stood, giving her a tight smile, while Stella walked forward and hugged her. The gesture almost did her in again, tears threatening to finally spill over.

"I'm sorry," she choked out and pushed Stella back a little. Giving the others a look, she smiled thinly, still fighting against the tears. "I am really sorry."

"Don't." Spence shook his head and came over to touch her arm gently. "He was out of line. Very much so." The disgust was barely concealed. As much as it had always been part of their relationship, and Spencer felt that he knew a bit of the reason why Boyd lashed out at Grace like that, nobody was allowed to treat her like this. Not even - and especially not - Boyd. "He behaved like an utter bastard!"

"No, Spence," Grace demurred. "It wasn't like that."

"It was! You don't need to defend him anymore, Grace. We know you left because of him. You left after a you talked to him all those months ago and if he behaved like this back then, it's no wonder."

Shaking her head, Grace place a soothing hand on Spences shoulder. "Lets not talk about Boyd's behaviour here. Something else is more important: Was he wrong with the thought that the investigation leads nowhere?"

"It's not your mistake!" Tim interrupted.

"I am leading this investigation, that makes it my mistake. I did not make sure we looked at the case from all angles. We followed the outlines we were given and didn't question them. You didn't, because you trusted me to do it. Which I did not!" She took a deep breath and smiled ruefully. "But the case is not over yet and so we are going to pull our heads out of our behinds.... Well, I will.... Spence, Stella, you get me all information that you can find on our esteemed Mr. Healy! Colin, Eve, I know it's not your general area of expertise, but time is short and I need to know everything there is to know about anybody connected to St. Anthony's. Stella and Spence will help you once they are through with Healy. I want to hear about every skeleton anybody there has in any closet!"

Everybody jumped into action, rushing towards computers and phones, pads and pens at the ready. Grace allowed herself a small smile.

* * *

 

He still didn't know where he had been so off the mark. He didn't know what had gone wrong. One moment he had been kissing Grace and was well on his way to have his first car sex in almost forty years, and the next moment she had accused him of exploiting her. She had pushed him away, shaken her head when he tried to talk to her, and all but fled from his car, leaving him in a state of shock.

Their fight over Mel's locket came to mind as a moment in their acquaintance when he had been equally shocked. But that had been part professional, part friendship-type. This was different.

Maybe he shouldn't have kissed her. Maybe he shouldn't have touched her so intimately, but how could he have stopped himself? Grace had been so responsive. Like she had wanted it, wanted _him_.

Making a frustrated noise to the heavens, Boyd marched on down the wet street, not caring whether he stepped into puddles of water or was soaked through from cars driving by. The rain beat down in sheets and he couldn't care less. It was the same as it had been all those months ago when Grace had ambushed him in his house, demanding an explanation for his plans to move to America.

It had been cold and rainy back then as well, and there had been a myriad of emotions tumbling over each other on her face. The anger, the hurt, the all-out rage, the love, the pain, the resignation all mixed into one major stew of emotions that she hadn't held in check and he had ignored as he said his piece.

 _"Nothing else keeping me here."_ Those had been his words and if there had ever been a moment when he had drawn blood from Grace without actually cutting her, then it had been that moment.

_"I haven't got anything left to give!"_

_"Don't do this to me, Boyd."_

The words circled and meshed, churned and washed over each other, into each other.

 _"You don't get it, do you?"_ No, he wasn't getting it and it made his blood boil in anger. He wasn't a bloody psychologist, he couldn't know what people thought by what they didn't say or do. That was Grace's job. She did some magic thing and knew what and why. She always did and let him know, just like that day.

"For fuck's sake, Grace! What do you want from me?" he groaned into the rain. Instead of an answer the rain pelted down harder, forcing him to quicken his steps and look out for a place where he could take shelter from the rain.

_"I haven't got anything left to give!"_

_"Don't do this to me, Boyd."_

_"Don't do this...."_

_"Don't...."_

He threw himself against the wall of a gateway, ready to punch the concrete in an explosion of frustration. Why did Grace have to be so enigmatic and vague? Why kiss him and then run away? Why slap him and disappear? Why allow him to comfort her and hang herself on other men at the same time?

Behind him, there were hollow voices, teenage boys, and he was about to shout at them to piss off and leave him alone.

He was too busy trying to understand what he couldn't. He was a mess. Grace and he were a mess; and he had not made it better by yelling at her and basically calling her a whore. The thought made Boyd cringe. Over the years he had accused Grace of many things. During their rows he had called her nosey, interfering, useless even. He had belittled and demeaned her work, her profession, her training. He had ignored her advice, done the opposite and blamed her for it. He had ignored their friendship and trampled on her loyalty to him. But never, ever, had he accused her of selling herself.

Mortification rushed over him at the thought, his last words and her slap rushing back to the fore of his mind.

Jesus....

The boys' chatter growing louder seeped into his painful musings, grating on his nerves. It wasn't a good thing to happen, not with the state he was in, and they were just boys.

"You know, it will be so much fun to see Healy's face. Bastard won't be so smug anymore...."

"Arsehole deserves it. Coppers should take him, not us...."


	12. Chapter 12

"Grace?" Stella called excitedly as she barged into the meeting room. "I think I hit the jackpot on Healy."

Looking up from her notes, Grace gave a small smile in response.

"Team meeting!" Spence called as he marched in after Stella. He waved the papers in his hands around like flags.

Assembling around the conference table, everybody waited for Kazuko to join them, but the young IT-specialist was typing away furiously. "Just a minute...," she called frantically, before giving an enthusiastic shout of "Yes!"

The rest of the team eyed her with barely concealed amusement. This was the loudest and liveliest anybody had seen the young woman so far. Twirling around, Kazuko beamed at them all. "Almost there," she announced. "I traced the addresses as far as Greater London. I just need to hit the right one now."

Colin raised an eyebrow, debating whether to point out that there were several million IP-addresses in the City of Westminster alone. However, since nobody else seemed to be bothered by that detail, he kept his mouth shut.

"What do you have?" Grace asked gently, her expression brightening. Somehow the younger team members' enthusiasm lifted her spirits as well. She had no doubt that Stella and Spence had found dark spots in Healy's past and she was almost willing to bet on the nature of those secrets.

Stella turned to write on the white board while Spencer read from the papers in his hand. "James Healy, age 46, degree in education and management from the university of Chester. A-student in all subjects he took and considered to have a brilliant future in management."

"Not education?"

"No, apparently he was considered to lack the humanity needed to make it far in education," Eve interrupted. "He was considered too cold in dealing with young people."

Tim nodded, having specifically checked the records of St. Anthony's board. "It was a topic of debate during his assessment for the position of Head of School."

"In what way?"

"There were two factions on the board. One was solidly against Healy because of his shortcomings in social interactions with youths. They saw a greater need for somebody to rally the students and parents behind him, but they were outvoted."

"Why?" Spencer asked, leaning against the table.

"Healy recommended himself as an administrator with an ability to set rules and make sure they are obeyed. A hard and organized hand, if you will."

"This faction was correct," Colin added. "Under Healy's rule, St. Anthony's has prospered in terms of success and reputation. They are ranging among the first in Greater London in all sorts of sports and constantly ranking among the best in exams and comparative tests. The school is a success story now."

Grace nodded, though her face was drawn into a thoughtful frown. "What about his personal life, Stella?"

"Married to Terry for 18 years. They met at university where she studied art history."

"Nice," Colin drawled out sarcastically.

"She's the daughter of a wealthy solicitor who provided the couple with quite a bit of money to put down as a deposit for their first house. They have two children, a 17-year old son who is enrolled at St. Anthony's, and a daughter at the age of five."

"Sounds like Mr. Healy has built himself the perfect life." Tim didn't sound convinced as he leaned back in his chair. It all sounded a little too perfect. "No crack in the career or the personal life?"

"Twelve years between two children sounds long," Kazuko interjected absently.

"That's where we hit the pay dirt, I assume, Stella? Spence?" Grace's smile was broadening. Her earlier suspicions gained strength.

"Absolutely," the Frenchwoman announced enthusiastically. "Katherine Healy was born a few months after her parents reconciled from a longer separation, which was resumed for a while during the pregnancy."

"The husband's infidelity caused the rift, I expect."

"Yes! Healy went through a long line affairs, apparently throughout their entire relationship. He wasn't particularly picky most of the time, but a few of those affairs caused a great deal of embarrassment."

"That's where the solicitor position of his father-in-law comes in handy, right? Because Mr. Healy unfortunately did not check the ages of his mistresses carefully enough." Grace barely held her sarcasm in. "A few of the girls were under age and some of them under his care as a school administrator."

"Yes, exactly." Stella didn't bother to ask how Grace could have known this beforehand. She had always had moments of knowing things before anybody could gather any solid hint.

"You are not surprised?" Colin asked Grace, somewhat in shock at the woman's almost serene reaction to the information.

Grace shook her head with a crooked grin. "Are you? Really?"

"A little," the young man admitted with some hesitancy.

"Healy is a man who accepts no weakness, in himself or other people. Therefore, he has to control himself and others rigidly. What he sees as right has to be carried out immediately and without fail."

"Which is why the school prospered under his rule, but only in clearly measurable areas. Money, exam results, sports. There's no creativity. No art contests or special community outreach," Tim added.

"Yes. So he needs an outlet for all the rigidity, hence all these women," Grace continued for the benefit of all, though she was looking directly at Colin.

"That's not the full reason. It's too easy." Colin was still somewhat disbelieving.

"No, that's where we return to the father-in-law. I'd say Mr. Healy doesn't have much love left for his in-law. Successful and wealthy, no black spots. He aspires to the same lifestyle, but feels his failures even stronger, because he has to be saved from of his mistakes by his in-law's prowess. It's a question of power for him. Those many women are a proof of his strength." Eve sounded thoughtful as she spoke. Once you looked at things from this angle, it made perfect sense.

"So, even if we haven't found any evidence yet, it is possible that not only the board knew about Healy's mistakes, and that he hasn't stopped his practice," Spencer stated calmly.

"We haven't found anything. It's an assumption at best." Stella wasn't completely convinced.

"Remember that girl, Libby, Stella?"

"I don't think Healy'd be that careless. It's too great a risk for all he's build up in his life."

"No, not with her, but..."

"I'm still waiting for news from my contact at the _The Sun_ ," Spencer interrupted.

Standing up, Grace gave each of the others a penetrating look. "Kazuko, you continue. Find us those computers. Spencer, you breathe down your informant's neck. Pull a Boyd, if you need." A short snort erupted in the room. "Tim, Stella, check all you can find about that girl. Colin, Eve, you both do the paperwork to get all of them in for questioning."

"What about you, Grace?" Eve asked with a grin twitching in the corners of her mouth.

"I'll bend Hutchinson's ear so he won't call us back like straying dogs."

* * *

 

Pinning the three lads with a hard gaze, Boyd pulled out his phone. During his short call, his eyes never left the young men who had all paled considerably since he had introduced himself as a police officer. Uniformed officers would be at the subway within a few minutes to bring the lads in for official questionings.

Boyd, however, had little doubt that at least one of them hid behind the user-id of 'fbuckity.' It wasn't even much gut instinct involved, the words he had heard made sure of it. He hadn't gotten all the information needed to understand the whole case, but at least he had the suspect. How Healy tied in, he wasn't sure yet, but that's what the questionings were for.

"Give me your names!" he demanded in an authoritarian tone.

All three of them raised their chins defiantly, but said nothing.

"Very well." Boyd almost smiled. "Until now, I was only asking you in for a casual questioning. If you want to complicate things by not giving your names, then I have to turn our future talks into witness or even suspect interviews; not a pretty thing, especially since they can result in the allegation of obstructing the course of justice." Pausing a few moments for effect, he then carried on. "Now, why don't you give me your names and we keep this friendly and informal.

"Derek Marsh," a young man of about 19 ground out. He seemed to be the most nervous of them all, displeased with the development and already plotting the easiest way out. Boyd knew the type. He was a minor player here, probably just an occasional companion.

"Andrew Baynes," a boy of about 14 or 15 muttered quietly. Looking at him, it became clear that he was the most emotional of the lads. Whatever was behind the story, he had the strongest emotional connection to the goings on. Grace or Tim would have to deal with him, he knew that. Maybe the boy had been pulled into the trouble by hero-worship for the elders or wanting to belong to the peer group, but Boyd couldn't be sure.

"And you are?" Boyd's question was met by a silent smirk, making his blood boil. The lad wasn't necessarily the oldest of the trio, but quite possibly the ring leader, and the young man left no doubt that he considered himself superior to a lowly police officer, who was dripping wet on top of it. It looked awfully familiar. "I asked you your name," Boyd repeated, trying to maintain his calm. If he came on too hard on any of the boys, they would twist and turn events to their liking, and in the end he might be slapped with some assault or abuse charge.

As steps sounded in the subway, announcing the arrival of the uniformed officers, Boyd gave the young man a long look. "I guess, Mr. Healy, we'll have to do it the hard way then."

* * *

 

The call had come amidst quiet conversations on the phones and between the other team members. Checking the addresses of Derek Marsh and Andrew Baynes, they hoped that one of them would provide the actual IP-address.

Eve had already ordered a team on standby to collect the boys' computers.

In the middle of the meeting room, Spence - still waiting for his call back - Stella, Colin, Grace and Tim were quietly planning the interview strategies for the three boys Boyd had discovered.

"Typical of him to find them somewhere in the streets when it's pouring outside," Stella muttered, causing the others to snort lightly.

"What did Boyd say?" Grace tried to sound as professional as possible, but inwardly she felt a mess. Seeing Boyd again now wasn't what she wanted, and she certainly didn't want to deal with him or work with him, much less portray a united front.

The Commissioner had been less than pleased by the road they would now take with the investigation. Embarrassment for the Met was a great possibility. Public anger fits by Healy or the Board of Governors of St. Anthony's wouldn't make for positive press. Grace knew all this, knew also that board members had friends in high places, which would probably lead to severe pressure on the unit, the Met and the Commissioner.

Still, they had to resolve the case. It was their job and they would do it. As often during their work on cold cases, the truth was an ugly thing, painful for everybody involved. It had left them feeling hollow and defeated more than once. It wasn't a heroic thing. Hutchinson had found nothing to retaliate with after she reminded him of the fact succinctly.

Commotion in the outer rooms announced the arrival of their suspects/witnesses, and Boyd. His voice carried across most of the floor, making them all shake their head.

The door flew open. Boyd towered in the frame and gave them all an intense look. Surprisingly, he looked much more relaxed than before. "I have them placed in separate rooms, so we can interview individually. Grace, take your pick with who you want to start."

Eyebrows rose at the strange change of atmosphere, not to mention Boyd's dishevelled appearance.

"You," Grace swallowed, "you should change first. You are dripping."

He eyed her, somewhat incredulous, but at the same time the corner of his mouth was twitching. "Mothering me?"

She shook her head.

Surprisingly, Boyd let it go, turning with the announcement that he'd be back in five.

Grace heaved an exasperated, but somewhat amused sigh.

Tim stared at her, a dumbfounded look on his face. These mood changes were exhausting him. How could two people change the tone of their dealings with each other so swiftly and so completely? Looking at Eve, she gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"Alright." Leaning against the table, Grace tried to muster her energy. Without having seen the boys, she knew the interviews would be tough jobs. Cameron Healy would fall to her, she didn't doubt it. All the repercussions coming from the interview would fall on her as well. "Let's go to the interview rooms. Kazuko, you stay here and work on the IP-addresses. Use the addresses we have of the three boys. Maybe it helps."

They marched to the adjacent interview rooms, mustering the three boys sitting inside. For a moment they were all silent, observing the boys. Andrew was slumped, looking as if he might cry any minute. "Tim, once the parents arrive, you go to Andrew Baynes. Take Stella with you. Ask him about his sisters.

"But make sure he doesn't have a breakdown," Tim clarified.

"Absolutely. As soon as you have any information about their connection to Healy, have Eve interrupt our interview with Healy Jnr. We'll need to wait for his mother anyway. Records say he's not of age yet. We better wait the few minutes and stick to protocol."

"That Baynes boy is the key player here."

"You think you have it all worked out?" Spencer asked Boyd who had just marched in, now dry and almost immaculately dressed.

Grace and Boyd looked at each other for a moment before nodding.

"Are we taking on Healy?" Boyd asked with a smile.

"Can you keep your contempt for his father to a minimum during the interview?"

"No promises."

She smiled for a split second. "He's a people reader as well. Like his father."

"I'll manage."

She didn't reply, instead turned towards Spencer and Colin. "You two take on Derek Marsh. Tower a bit, provoke a bit. Make him squirm. He'll talk to save himself."

The two men nodded in agreement.

With all the jobs dispatched, they turned towards the interview rooms, Grace, Boyd and Eve staying in the back.

Boyd closed the distance to the scientist. "Eve, you need to stay here and watch out. Any sign of trouble and you raise the alarm." Louder, he continued, "We'll do this by the book, but at the smallest sign of danger." He didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.

Crossing the room, Boyd stopped placing a hand on Grace's back. "Grace?"

She gave him a tremulous smile in return, not completely caused by his proximity, though it factored greatly. They needed and would put aside their personal issues for this interview and the fallout. Despite everything that had been said and done, they were at the breakthrough point and their personal matters would have to be put on hold.

"Let's do this," she responded quietly.


	13. Chapter 13

In the end, it was irritatingly simple. The solution was anti-climactic considering the fears beforehand. Sitting around the table in the meeting room they looked at each other, still waiting for the actual climax of the case, but realizing that it had already happened. It left them feeling hollow, frustrated even.

The interviews were dispensed with fairly quickly. Derek Marsh proved to be just as weak as they had expected. His involvement in the case was due to his attempt of gaining the good graces of Andrew Baynes for no other reason than his romantic, or sexual, they couldn't be entirely sure about it, interest in Andrew's older sisters. Young Mr. Marsh wasn't even particular about which of the two he fancied more.

With the police involved, and the possibility of being charged for breaking several child protection acts due to violent computer games on his machines, the appeal of the Baynes' sisters waned quickly though and Derek had only one interest to save his skin.

The attitude galled the entire team, and inside the interview room both Spencer and Colin had a hard time hiding their contempt for the young man. Outside, Boyd didn't even bother. From the looks on everybody's faces, his team mates understood his irritation and shared it.

With several more interviews to go, however, they needed some self-control and Grace closed the distance to put a calming hand on Boyd's arm. Though he bristled in annoyance to start with, Boyd quickly quieted, the difference obvious to everybody. To himself it was a bit of a surprise that her touch would have such a soothing effect on him after the events of the last hours. The smile came to his face unbidden, and he reached out to squeeze her hand on his arm.

Grace smiled as well, no less surprised by the peace and intimacy of the moment.

The rest of the team studiously avoided looking, saying, reacting, even thinking.

Mr. Baynes' arrival with his daughters interrupted the moment, forcing Grace to turn and take stock of the newcomers. There was a good deal of anger in the family, but it wasn't obvious at whom it was directed. They'd have to tread carefully around them.

"Mr. Baynes," Boyd started as calmly and quietly as he could, "I found your son with these two young men and could not help but to overhear their conversation, which provided information in connection to the case we are currently investigating. We think that he can give us further information and therefore would like to conduct a formal questioning."

"You want my consent," Baynes stated flatly.

"Yes, Mr. Baynes. Andrew seems connected to threats made against his school," Grace continued with gentle earnestness. The vague hints and suspicions she had harboured for days were beginning to roll into a clear picture. "We also believe that he has further information about certain acts of misconduct in the school which might have led to his involvement in the threats."

Stephen Baynes swallowed, his face a mask frustrated resignation. He didn't answer, didn't need to. His unconscious reaction of shielding his daughters more fully was answer enough.

"Mr. Baynes?" Boyd pushed.

The man nodded. Tim and Stella took this as a sign to enter the interview room where Andrew sat huddled in his chair. Starting gently, it didn't take them long to have the boy spill his secrets. His anger, fuelled by a feeling of having been manipulated from all sides, had brought him to the end of his tether and though Tim tried to be as soothing as possible, it didn't take long for the boy to cry.

Outside, his sisters stood hand in hand, willing him to hold it together while trying to give each other strength as well. The tension in their bodies was visible, though.

Their father had wandered to the windows, observing the other young men. "You can give a statement as well, Mr. Baynes, as your daughters can," Grace ventured quietly.

He gave her a quick doubtful look. "What for?"

"We might have started investigating the threats your son and his _friends_ posted online, but we don't ignore other crimes we may encounter."

"And?"

"You've lodged a complaint against James Healy for improper conduct in a position of power, in regards to your daughter."

"The complaint was dismissed as not being based on fact."

"So?" Sometimes Boyd's abrasive nature was a true godsend. Both Eve and Grace fought their smiles as a flicker of hope crossed Baynes' face. The two girls shot around, their eyes wide.

The phone ringing stopped Boyd from reacting irritated. "Mrs. Healy is in the waiting area," Eve announced after putting the receiver down.

"We'll take the young man on then. Eve, make sure that Mrs. Healy is kept comfortable until we can interview her."

"Shall Tim do it if he's finished first?"

Grace shook her head. "No, that's a job for you and me."

* * *

 

Young Mr. Healy tried to hold out as long as he could, projecting an obnoxious and defiant air that pulled at Boyd's control. It helped that Grace always seemed to be one step ahead which rattled the young man and produced chinks in his façade. Still, he tried to remain silent.

The break came when Kazuko managed to crack the IP-addresses, leading them directly to both Cameron and Andrew's computer.

Boyd took great pleasure in informing the young man of the fact, as seeing him flinch gave him an almost unholy sense of glee. The glee evaporated quickly, though, when Grace informed the young man that his mother would be interviewed as well. Cameron broke down, his behaviour changing so completely that he seemed like a different person.

Upon leaving the interview room, Grace unobtrusively took hold of Boyd's hand and squeezed. She could see what was churning behind the pale façade on his face. "It's not the same thing," she whispered.

* * *

 

With the results of the interviews before them, the team was a loss as how to go on. In the face of the information the boys had given, Stephan Baynes and his daughters had volunteered statements as well. The noose around James Healy's neck was drawing tighter, but it all hung on the statements he and his wife would give.

Surprised that she was wanted for an interview, instead of just picking up her son, Terry Healy was not cooperative in the beginning. Reluctant to share information, she demanded a solicitor present, and then pointed to her right to stay silent.

"You are not protecting your husband here, Mrs. Healy," Eve reminded her gently. "With the information and statements we have, we gathered enough evidence to charge your husband with abuse of several different kinds - sexual abuse, child abuse, abuse of a position of power, harassment, obstructing investigations. Nothing you can say will write off this evidence."

Across the table, Terry Healy paled. Her hands that were folded demurely in her lap clenched tightly. "What are you saying?" she ground out after a minute of tense silence.

"Duty is a very strong bond, Mrs. Healy. Feeling bound to your marriage vows as well. Protecting and supporting your husband is one thing, and I imagine that you are very committed to your marriage and your husband. Maybe you even love him still." Grace spoke quietly, her expression somewhat absent as if she wasn't consciously talking to and about their witness. "But you aren't blind and you aren't stupid. You know that your husband is capable of all these acts, has done them in the past. You know that our evidence only confirms what you have known all along. Your husband forced Christina Baynes into sexual acts while she was a student at St. Anthony's, exploiting his position as principal. You know that. Just as you know that he has made similar attempts on her sister Libby recently."

Terry remained silent, her face as mask of stone. The only evidence of her twirling emotions was her extensive fiddling with her wedding band.

"You also know that your son harbours a great deal of resentment against his father for his behaviour towards those girls and towards you. Cameron confirmed that his involvement was an attempt to cause trouble for his father. You didn't even need to hear what he said, you knew beforehand."

The act was more than symbolic, it was practical. While Grace spoke earnestly, the woman on the other side of the table slowly pulled her ring off. Still holding it in her hand, she haltingly began to speak.

Forty minutes later, the ring ended up in the middle of the table. It was the final act of the statement. As Terry Healy left the room, her head was held high. In the waiting area she pulled both her children into her arms. Cameron looked ready to cry, but with his mother smiling at him and his sister tugging at his shirt, he quickly pulled himself together.

"Mrs. Healy?" Andrew who had been sitting with his father and sisters quietly spoke up. "I...."

The woman shook her head. "No. There's no need. I apologize...."

Stephen Baynes followed his son, smiling tightly. "No, there is no need for this. It is as it should be."

From the sidelines, the team watched, enjoying a moment of satisfaction before the toughest interview of the day would follow.

James Healy had not arrived, but uniformed officers were on their way, having collected the man right from his office. Boyd would have loved to have seen the event, the embarrassment for Healy probably having reached epic proportions. Well, it would get worse. That much was certain.

"I better talk to Hutchinson and inform him of the developments. Once we charge Healy, there'll be unpleasant questions." Grace didn't look happy.

"The board of governors will be happy to heap all the blame on Healy. Turn him into a devil so that they remain unscathed." Tim had no doubt about it. "I'm sure the Commissioner can see that too."

"Invite him to the interview," Eve added. "If he hears for himself, he'll think differently."

* * *

 

"You conducted yourself very professionally in the interview, DSI Boyd," the Commissioner stated quietly as the evening drew to a close. James Healy's questioning had gone on for almost four hours. Most of the time was due to Healy's reluctance to talk, but also Grace's insistence on taking the time, asking all questions that had turned up during their investigation of the man's past and career. This time, she didn't want to leave any stone unturned. Boyd had agreed, following her lead as much as he possibly could.

With their suspect being a people reader and the Commissioner watching, he had every intention of not making a slip. It was a mask, and a hard one to uphold at that. But next to him, Grace seemed calm, almost serene and he tried to take his hints from her. Boyd knew that whatever Healy said or didn't say would only confirm what they could already undoubtedly prove with the other statements. All that was left was the man's confession.

Healy, however, had built a strong wall of indifference around him. Not even the possible charge against his underage son, which would reflect badly on him as the parent, and on his career, fazed the man. More than that, it caused a callous dismissal of the 'useless bloke.'

Before it could turn into more than a surge of instinct, Boyd felt Grace's hand gripping his arm tightly. From the tension on her face, he could see that Healy's behaviour affected her just as well, angered her. But her self-control had always been better than his. In every situation.

Thus she ignored Healy's words and went on with the interview. Her questions returned to the assessment of the board of governor's, going into great, seemingly useless detail. It confused the principal and drove Grace on.

Jumping from topic to topic and aspect to aspect, she intermixed inane questions with sharp ones, never staying on one topic long enough for Healy to settle on it. The entire time her expression remained one of unaffected tranquillity. Next to her, Boyd felt the momentum of just being pulled along. It was a strange feeling, even to him.

As the hours went by, the control of the two men in the room was beginning to wear thin. Not that Healy was more willing to talk, but his temper was catching, just as Boyd's was. At that point, Grace casually placed Terry Healy's wedding band on the table.

The reaction was immediate.

James Healy's eyes widened dramatically and he drew in a sharp breath, so deep that it looked as if he was pumping his torso up like a bullfrog. No explosion came forth, however. Instead, he let the breath out again, deflating into a slump. When he looked up again, his face was ashen, the former smooth unaffectedness completely gone.

Once started, Healy gave the impression of not being able to confess fast enough. The Baynes' sisters were only points on a long list. As predicted, it was more the aspect of coercion that appealed to the principal than the sexual act itself. In a role reversal, it was Boyd who placed a calming hand on Grace's arm.

By the time he finished, he was sagging in his chair, but for the first time in their acquaintance, James Healy gave the impression of actually being human. When Spencer and Stella came in to take him to a holding cell, he didn't put up any resistance.

In his wake, the interview room was filled with exhausted silence. Grace threw her ear piece onto the table and then tilted her head back, eyes closed. The lines and wrinkles on her face were more pronounced than before, showing how much the last hours had taken out of her. Boyd didn't feel much better, but still got up to stand behind her and brush his hands soothingly over her shoulders.

"That was some work," he whispered.

"Hmm."

"Some of your best."

"You okay?" Eve asked from the door, worry written all over her. Tim towered behind, along with the Commissioner.

Grace grimaced before turning to answer. Her movement, however, was not enough to dislodge Boyd's hands from her shoulders. He gently squeezed in acknowledgment.

"Yes. Just a little drained."

"How about we close shop for the day and go celebrate? I'm sure we could all use some food and a few drinks."

"You worked well," Commissioner interrupted, stepping fully into the room. "That was a very good interview, from the both of you."

Both Boyd and Grace nodded, but didn't answer.

Hutchinson nodded as well, acknowledging that the team had not forgiven and forgotten their most recent encounters. "My office will ensure that nothing undermines your work. I'll do the necessary press statements myself." He paused, looking at each of them. "That was good work from all of you. You worked well as a team."

Nobody rushed to correct him, even though they knew that the Commissioner's words glossed over the troubles of the last days. And over the fact that he was, at least partially, responsible for them. Instead, the entire team stared at him.

Their behaviour could not be misinterpreted and so the Commissioner turned to leave. "DSI Boyd," he called when he had almost reached the door. Boyd turned, but did not stop from touching Grace. Therefore, she could feel the sudden tension in his fingers. "You proved yourself, at least for the moment."

No reply came forth and Hutchinson left.


	14. Chapter 14

They spent an amicable time at the pub that night, wired up from the tension of the interviews, but relieved to have resolved the issue. Lounging around their table, they dug into food and consumed quite a few glasses of alcohol. The stories flowed freely, mostly crazy tales about the job. At some point it seemed to turn into a contest of who could tell the most absurd anecdote.

Grace won that hands down, mainly because of the way she had of telling, and because she managed to kill each and every one of Boyd's punch lines. The team watched that with interest, surprised that she got away with it. But Boyd seemed mellow that night, busy with admiring Grace, which they all did, and thinking deeply about something.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what exactly that was and Eve watched it with a little worry.

Their table was easily the loudest in the pub as the hour grew late and more alcohol was consumed.

"Seriously, Grace, when did you know about Healy?" Colin, having easily drunk the most and being worst at holding it, was feeling courageous and asked. His voice sounded a little slurred, which also accounted for his obliviousness to the frown Boyd threw him. "Was it some divine recognition, or something? Like a crystal ball...." He laughed at his own joke, despite being alone in his mirth.

"I think you might want to rephrase that question when you are sober, DC Martin," Boyd interrupted, his voice surprisingly kind, but leaving no doubt that he was giving an order. "I think it is also time for you to go to bed."

Not waiting for the younger man to refuse, Boyd stood and dragged Colin up as well. "In fact, I'll drive you."

The others stared in surprise; this amount of consideration from Boyd was more than unusual.

"Are you fit to drive?" Grace sounded concerned, which made everybody else, including Boyd smile. He nodded reassuringly, the smile firmly in place. Throwing a goodbye around the table, he pulled their drunken colleague with him.

The remaining people watched them go until they were out of sight.

"He really has his moments," Stella commented.

"If only they weren't so few and far in between." Spencer wasn't as positively minded, but even he smiled.

"It's Grace's influence," Stella declared.

The woman in question didn't say anything for long minutes, still staring at the door, lost in her thoughts.

"Grace?" Tim gently laid a hand on her arm. "Are you okay?"

She started, but smiled brilliantly. From her seat, Eve could see that it wasn't entirely genuine, but resolved to let it go for the moment. There would be time for the truth later on. After the roller coaster of emotions of the last 24 hours, they all deserved to have some slack cut for them. Especially Grace, since it was to be assumed that the emotional upheaval had started a whole lot earlier for her, and for Boyd.

"Going to bed sounds like a good plan. We'll have to write quite a few reports tomorrow."

"Paperwork! The favourite part of every copper's job." Spencer sounded sarcastic, making them all chuckle. "When do you want us in, boss?"

"No later than 10 should be good. Get some sleep; we all need it."

* * *

 

In the morning there was a firearms specialist with a great deal of embarrassment on his shoulders and a team that watched in amusement how he'd dig himself out. The good mood didn't last long, however, when the Commissioner came in with a serious expression on his face.

Taking Grace and Tim aside, their conversation was agitated, making both psychologists frown.

"Mr. Bartlett demands public recognition for his involvement in the case," Hutchinson finally announced. "Neither the Met nor Home Office are willing to give it, though. If there is going to be a press release at all, the Met will only acknowledge Dr. Foley's and Dr. McKinsey's work. It doesn't look likely, because St. Anthony's Board of Governors wishes to keep things low level. In fact, we've been asked very insistently not to release any information to the public."

"Mr. Bartlett doesn't accept that?" Eve asked, though it was a rhetorical question.

"He saw the case as a short cut to Royal recognition. An MBE at least. That's why he offered the agency's service," Tim answered.

"He offered?" Grace sounded shocked, though not overly surprised. "He offered me, then." She didn't voice the continuation of the thought, but it hung in the air. Boyd closed the distance instinctively, trying to provide some sort of protection, as useless as it was.

"What does he want to do, if the Met doesn't pander to his wishes?" He asked the question briskly. The earlier levity had left him completely, a dark cloud settling over his features. The other team members moved around him and Grace as well, staring expectantly at the Commissioner.

"He'll create the public recognition himself. Release a statement. Give interviews. Tell everybody who wants to hear how incapable Home Office and the Met are, that only because of his agency the case could be saved. That the Met are ungrateful bastards, using and abusing his people." Grace was sarcastic. "And pointing to my contract, he'll parade me around like a circus horse to prove his point."

"He will not!" The vehement statement came like a shot from several mouths.

Grace smiled shakily and squeezed hands around her.

Hutchinson nodded and gave the group in front of him a tight smile. They had worked together like he had expected. Of course, there had been the usual upheaval, and Boyd had still not resolved _all_ doubts in his person, but under the influence of Dr. Foley, things had turned out exactly as they should be. "I'll deal with Mr. Bartlett and the board. Have your reports done tonight."

"It's more than just being shoved aside for Bartlett," Tim said quietly, once the Commissioner had left. "It's about his position in all this, his position in the agency. You know he put in great effort and money to hire you, Grace. He wants to make the most of your stint with the agency. And he's mad that you slipped from his grasp during the last days. I don't think he paid for that fancy hotel to have me staying in a suite adjacent to his. And I don't think the red roses were planned for me either."

"Did you see his face when he found you holding the bouquet?" Grace chuckled for a moment. Sobering quickly, she shook her head. "I can imagine quite a few of his reasons and I don't like any of them."

"If he becomes pushy...."

"It's alright, Spence. I can handle it."

They spent the rest of the morning writing and transcribing reports and interviews with the usual thoroughness. Word from the prison where James Healy now awaited further developments said that the principal would plead guilty during his trial.

Around noon the Commissioner came in again, followed by a Mr. Marshall, who introduced himself as the Head of the Board of Governors for St. Anthony's. Quickly dispensing with the formalities, the man thanked them for their work, but insisted on secrecy about the details. The Board would stick to the version of Mr. Healy having taken a permanent leave of absence due to personal reasons. No word was to be said about his future stay at her Majesty's generosity. A new principal would be hired and the school would move on.

As he left, Boyd groused, "Push another skeleton into the closet. Close the door and forget about it. Marshall is just as much of a bastard as Healy! Do all people become wankers when they reach power positions?"

Thankfully, Hutchinson had left as well, so only Grace's warning "Boyd!" was the consequence.

* * *

 

The team finished work at a decent time and decided to turn in for an early night. Though they weren't completely set, the big celebration would happen the day afterwards. The offices cleaned out quickly, the younger members grabbing the chance to escape quickly. Grace was still tidying up, but Boyd lingered aimlessly, torn between wanting to catch some time with Grace and at the same time desperate to avoid leaving with her.

It was time for _the_ talk, but he didn't really know what to say. He had behaved abhorrently, insulting her, hurting her frequently. He had also tried to be nice and succeeded at times. He could, however, not make head or tail of Grace's behaviour. At times she was gentle und understanding, sometimes downright seductive and irresistible, to him at least. But then she was aloof and secretive, leaving him hanging in the air. There were issues between them, not least the kiss from yesterday morning, but most went back years. What did she expect of him? What would make her stay?

"Night, Boyd," Grace called, shaking him out of his thoughts. She was almost at the outer doors already, and he fought the instinct to follow her. Perhaps it was better to leave the talk for when they were both more rested.

"Night."

Grace, for her part, inwardly shook her head. With the case finished, she would return north and fulfil her contract with Bartlett before moving on. If nothing else, the last days had shown that the part of her life with Boyd in it should be a thing of the past and it wouldn't serve her to hang onto it. Nothing had changed with Boyd, and therefore nothing would ever change between them. Parts of it she regretted deeply, their kiss from the day before pointing to an obvious one. She'd never know what kind of a lover he was. And maybe it was good that way.

It had also become clear that Bartlett and his agency provided no future; at least none she was willing to sacrifice anything for. Just a few months were left of her contract and she would refuse any renewal. There were other options for her, a new challenge possibly what she needed.

She sighed as she pulled her coat tighter, effectively straightening her scarf as well. It had become cold over night and she'd have to take the tube. Adjusting her purse over her shoulder, she made for the exit.

"Grace, finally!" Starting, she suppressed a grimace as she recognised the voice coming closer. "I've been waiting all afternoon!"

"Mr. Bartlett!" she acknowledged tightly as she slowly turned.

"Grace, Grace, you are a very hard woman to catch." Jeremy Bartlett was all ease and joviality, but the hard edge to his tone was audible.

"It was a busy few days," she answered evasively. "Long hours."

"But now you are done, I've heard. Therefore, you do have time. And I insist!"

"Jeremy, I really don't think."

Bartlett took another step closer, invading Grace's personal space. She pulled back, but he followed. "But I think we should finally have that dinner you promised me. Wouldn't you agree that it is impolite to break your promises?"

Bristling, Grace tried to take a step backwards but Bartlett had placed his hand on her shoulder and now firmly gripped it to make her stay.

"You wouldn't want to harm my opinion of you, do you, Grace?"

"She never does," a new voice broke in, mustering his most pleasant tone. "Unfortunately, she has plans for tonight already and was just going ahead to my car while I tidied up." Boyd gave the other man his most winning smile as he walked close and gently took Grace's hand in his. Then turning, he nodded at Bartlett. "I'm sure there'll be another time. Maybe you can call sometime tomorrow? We do have to go now or we miss our booking."

Since Boyd gently pulled Grace with him and Bartlett certainly didn't want to cause a scene in the lobby of the Met building, he had to let go. The scowl on his face, however, made it clear that this wasn't the last of it.

They ended up on the sofa in his flat with Chinese take away and a bottle of red wine. Grace didn't comment on the Spartan furnishing, but Boyd shrugged by way of explanation. "I wasn't sure I'd stay here for long. Didn't know whether the Met would really take and keep me. Buying a lot of furniture didn't make much sense."

"And now?" The lump in her throat made it almost impossible to force the words out. "America is no longer an option?

He smiled tightly, knowing that they were reaching the deep and murky waters. Taking a sip of his wine, he shook his head. "No. It never really was. Moving there was a mistake, I guess. I was trying to force something. My stubbornness, maybe."

"I see." Grace didn't look at him, instead playing with the rim of her wine glass.

Boyd gave her a sideways look, somehow hoping for a more elaborate response. "It wasn't my finest hour. Especially the not telling you about it," he ventured carefully.

Next to him, he could feel Grace stiffen, her posture suddenly rigid. "Boyd, it's...."

"That's why you left, isn't it? Because of what I said that day." She still didn't reply, instead stared straight ahead. Taking a deep breath, Boyd turned to face her fully and placing his hand under her chin, gently pulled her to face him as well. At first, Grace didn't look at him, but with a small nudge, her eyes locked with his.

He had always found Grace's face a book, fascinating to read though not always understandable to him. Now, myriads of emotions were swirling over her features and he found himself mesmerized. Suddenly, it promised a lifetime of discovery to find out what each expression on her face meant.

"I didn't mean it," he said earnestly. "I didn't want to hurt you either."

Her jaw clenched and he took that as a sign that he had hit the mark. "Boyd."

"I apologize, Grace. I'm really sorry. I really am."

Heaving a sigh, Grace lowered her lashes. "I know."

A quick smile crossed his face, but Boyd wasn't done yet. "I hope so. You are too important me to leave you hurt."

Her breath hitched at the admission. She wasn't sure what to make of it. Was this an overture to more confessions to come? Had he finally understood? Was he finally acknowledging? Grace wanted to stay on top of the situation, not be drawn in by a few nice words in his gentlest tone of voice. He could be so seductive, leaving her helpless but to forgive and forget and take even the smallest scrap of affection he was willing to throw at her. She didn't want to give him this kind of power any more, not when she knew how it hurt once the moment was over and he reverted to the uncaring blind bastard he could be. She was too old and too tired to go through this kind of heartbreak again and again,

"You don't believe me," Boyd stated with a gentle smile, forcing Grace to look at him, and in response to his smile, a small one tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"I am serious, you know." Once he had started, it was surprisingly easy to say the words. He didn't even have to force them out. "You are too important to me to lose you. I'm no good without you."

Her eyes widened dramatically as her cheeks flushed. "Peter." The sigh came unbidden, softly and breathy.

Leaning forward, Boyd wanted to catch the sound from her lips with a kiss. One small and tender touch quickly erupted into several kisses, each more heady and passionate than the previous. Within minutes they ended up lying on the sofa, clothes slowly being undone, skin uncovered, touched and kissed. Moans and sighs reverberated through the room, all thought of further talk and truths to be shared forgotten.

* * *

 

The alarm showed a little after 7 as he woke up. Taking a moment to catch his bearings, he looked blearily around the room. The lamp on the nightstand was turned off, though he remembered vaguely that they had left it on. It didn't mean much, until he carefully extended his arm to touch and wake Grace. His hand encountered empty space.

Where she had lain, the bedding was cool, showing that she had left quite some time ago.

No sound came from the bathroom, or any other room. No sound that showed another person was still in the flat.

She was gone.

And Boyd didn't need to search the place to realize that she hadn't left a message.

He stared at the phone for a long moment, rushing through a mental list of people he could call about her whereabouts, but none came to mind. It came to him that she had covered her tracks well. Had she given anybody her new mobile phone number? Did anybody know her current address? Boyd didn't think so. At least, it was nobody who'd be willing to give him the information.

Staring around the room, Boyd realized that she had once again pulled the disappearing act on him. Grace had left no traces of her presence, except the lingering scent of her perfume. He didn't need it, though. It was imprinted in his memory, easily recognisable amongst hundreds or thousands of women.

It was in him, just like she was.

Falling back, Boyd stared at the ceiling.

Last night there had been moments when he was absolutely certain that this was how it was supposed to be, how it would be in the future. She, him, this was how they belonged. He had felt it in her touch, in their sounds, in the very air they had both breathed.

It had been absolutely right.

And yet, she was gone in the morning almost like an apparition flitting in and out of his life, and at the same time, still there.

Last night, with her in his arms, he had been as close to clarity as he would ever come.

He had told her that he was no good without her, but she hadn't answered. She didn't need to. She was too important to him to lose her; that was the gospel truth. He needed her in his life.

He just needed to convince Grace Foley of that fact.


	15. Epilogue

He stood there, as real and as - dare she admit it - handsome as ever. The realization made her weak in the knees. He stood there in the car park, talking to Tim in a way that threw her back a few weeks. At the same time it was completely different. Both men had never been so amicable in London.

Now, however, they stood together conversing pleasantly, though she could see that Boyd's mind wasn't in it any more. Even over the distance, she could feel his gaze fixed on her, tracing every move she made.

Tim noticed quickly that he didn't have the other man's attention anymore and retreated to his car. As much as he wanted to see how this would pan out - he expected curious calls from London on the matter - he didn't really want to know. It was a strange thing.

Closing the distance happened in slow motion. There were cars driving by which he didn't notice, people throwing greetings at her which she ignored. They were focused on each other, taking step after step until only a foot or so separated them.

"You found me," she said quietly, a small smile threatening to break out at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes." He didn't bother much to hide his own.

"Found somebody who told you?"

"No, your children are as tight-lipped as ever. Don't like me much either."

She chuckled quietly. "I know."

His smile broadening, Boyd took another step forward so that he was almost toe to toe with her. Grace's smile widened for a moment before disappearing altogether again. "And now?"

Boyd shrugged. "How are you?" he asked instead.

"Okay."

He nodded, though they both knew that the answer wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear. "You are still working for that..."

"Fulfilling my contract. Another month to go." She shrugged as well, not sure why she didn't say any more. It sounded so stilted.

"And then?"

There was another shrug, because she really didn't know. "Freelance, maybe."

He nodded. "Hutchinson said he'd hire you right away."

Grace snorted a little. "Yeah, he said as much to me too."

"You could come back."

"And give all this up?" Her gesture was unclear, encompassing all and nothing at the same time.

"Grace." He whispered her name so quietly that the wind almost carried it away. It was more of the physical knowledge that he said it than the actual sound. Placing two fingers under her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. As their eyes connected, she swallowed.

"Why are you here, Peter?"

"Well,...." He gave a sheepish shrug. "I've been told they have a brilliant football team here. Personally, I think it's complete rubbish, but there is this woman, you see, who is a die-hard fan and I thought I'd get myself a ticket and let her convince me."

Her eyes widened and a disbelieving snort rose. "The match is tomorrow."

"I know." He smirked. "Gives you some time then."


End file.
